


Your Hands Around my Throat

by Timaelan



Series: Backfire [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Bulla - Freeform, Family Affair - Freeform, M/M, Truten in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timaelan/pseuds/Timaelan
Summary: Your hands have been around my throat for years, since that day when you spared my life for no reason. Sometimes, you’ve loosened your grip to the point of letting me believe that I was freed of you, and some other times, you’ve clenched so hard that it was painful and suffocating, but you never let go of me -A small thing about Kakavege.
Relationships: Kakarot/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Series: Backfire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003650
Comments: 45
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Kakavege. Be forgiving.

It’s cold today. I don’t mind, I’m still hot from my morning training. I’m standing still on top of the grassy slope, watching you coming my way. I have to squint because of the dazzling sunlight pouring down from the sky. You’ve just passed the half-frozen pond and you're now making your way among the wild bushes. Nature around is sparkling with frost and the sight reminds me once again the beauty of that place.

It's not what takes my breath away though. My mind and my nerves are set on you. I can’t believe you ended up showing up and I wonder if you eventually figured out. Deep down I suspect you did. Or you’re about to do. Why now, after all these years? Is it because of the loneliness? Or out of weariness? I can’t say. I don’t care. It just scares me.

You don’t hurry. I sense your confusion. You’re still hesitant and disbelieving. I know how it feels. I went through the same years ago and I've been torn apart ever since that time. I wish I were as clueless as you, but you were always the lucky one. Happy are the idiots, isn’t it what they say? You never pieced up these strange feelings twisting your guts. You never questioned them. You did well. They’ve been burning me all this time.

The woman helped me keep the fire at bay for a while and I bless her for that. I truly loved her, but she’s long gone now and my memories of her are fading away. It’s frustrating and disheartening. Even though I try hard not to forget her, I don’t remember her voice already and I’d be hardly able to recognize her scent. A lot of moments we shared slipped in oblivion too. As years flew by, her picture dies out in my mind, leaving me face to face with my yearning for you. It hurts. I truly loved her, but it doesn’t have anything to do with us, does it?

You’re closer and I can see your face better now. You look stern, but except for that, you didn’t change much. Just like me, you didn’t age. We’ve been almost Gods and Gods don’t age. I'm not even sure if they die. It sounds amazing, but what’s the point when everyone else does, huh?

I sigh. I don't know if I’m relieved, or nervous, or irritated at your slow pace.

As you’re nearing me, our eyes met at last. In normal times, you’d give that moronic smile of yours, but you don’t. I note that you’re not as bold as you used to be. You’re somehow fazed. For the first time in your life, you don’t know how to handle the situation. You don’t even wave at me in that childlike manner of yours. There’s nothing childlike in you anymore. Is it because you definitely figured out? Did the flames of that damn fire eventually find their way to your soul? I always thought I’d be happy the day it would happen, but for some reason, I just feel scared. I can’t explain.

I keep my composure though. There’s no way I’ll make it easy for you. I’ve suffered too much for all these years while your oblivious nature kept you safe. I prevent myself from joining you. I’m craving for your closeness, but I stand still and quiet. I’ve been alone for so long in that isolated place and all this time, I’ve been secretly hoping that you’d show up looking for me, needing me, but you didn’t. You kept going on without me, ignoring us one way or another. I hated you for that disregard and I still do.

You stop a few steps from me. You’re uncomfortable, I can feel it. I cross my arms wordlessly with my eyes locked on you. You eased off and you smile for the first time. It’s a shy smile though. Sheepish.

“Vegeta, I – It’s been a long time,” you stammer.

“Kakarott. What have you been up to?” I ask in return, my face as emotionless as ever.

As if we had any recent contacts. I haven’t heard from you in two years. Last time… Last time was too hard and made me understand that I had to stay away from you. Whatever. You're the one mastering Instant Transmission after all. And still, it’s been two years.

“Well, traveling up and there. Hanging around in other worlds. Then, I thought I should go back to Earth. See the family and all…”

Family and all… Moron. I feel like slapping you. At the same time, my guts are in fire and it asks me all I have not to grab your shirt and pull you to me. I just ball my fists instead.

“And so, you decided to come to visit me?”

You're shifting in unease. “Trunks told me about you living here. It’s beautiful. Huh…”

Small talk. You look around, your eyes gazing at everything but me. It seems you’re still fighting the flames. Do it as much as you want. As long as you want. Trust me, you won’t win. As things stand, you’ve already started losing. You wouldn’t be there otherwise.

“Do you have something to eat? It’s been a long trip up to your place,” you finally state.

A long trip, yeah. You could have instant transmitted yourself, but you were afraid to come, weren't you?

“Sure,” I growl. I shouldn't be so welcoming, but I can't help it. The wait for you has been too long and too lonely. I just turn around and walk away. I don't check on you, but I sense you in my wake. You don't speak. I feel your silent staring at me and I try to imagine what you're thinking of. Are you realizing the reasons why you came? Are you trying to deny them? Let me know how it goes.

“Are you still training?” your voice asks as we climbed down the slope to reach the path leading to the wood.

“What do you think?” I huff at the idiotic question. As if I had any choice. What am I supposed to do with that overwhelming energy eating me away?

“Sparring?” you carry on.

“In case you didn’t notice I have no sparring partner here,” I mumble absently while heading for the wood.

We’re soon surrounded by high firs and spruces. The trees hardly allow the daylight to reach the ground. That’s why I set up my home at the entrance of the wood. It’s a small, round Capsule home. An old basic model, but I like it.

As I open the door, I realize you're not following me anymore. You're standing a few steps from the house, staring at the building with a puzzled face.

“Bulma had the same house when we first met. She took it everywhere…” you murmur.

The name of Bulma is like a stab in my guts. She’s been gone for years, but still, I can’t stand being reminded of her. I still can’t deal with the emotion. I just gaze away and step into the house without a word.

Of course, you sense my pain anyway. “Sorry, Vegeta, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t think that… It’s been so long since…” you stammer sheepishly again.

“Shut up,” I utter in a growl. I busy myself at building up a new fire. I try to focus on the hearth, cleaning the ashes and piling up new logs in an attempt to get my mind off of the woman. Your presence behind my back is enough to send me back to other concerns. “There’s food in the closet next to the kitchen,” I say.

I hear you rummaging through my pantry.

When the fire flares, at last, the smell of stew floats in the air. I stand up and walk to the part of the living room used for cooking. You’re giving me your back as you take care of the pots. I lean my shoulder against the wall and study your acting. It seems you learned how to deal with food since your woman died. I guess a kind of survival instinct pushed you to do so.

You know I'm staring at you and you pause all of a sudden. You give me a questioning glance over your shoulder. “Are you hungry too?”

A foolish question to ask. I nod even though I have no real appetite for food. You grin.

“Let me take care of the meal. I improved myself a lot since the last time we saw each other,” you claim.

I can’t help a smirk. Do you really believe that I would do such a thing as cooking for you anyway?

I sit at the wooden table while you cope with the pan. You’re frying eggs and heating the rest of my stew. It’s not much really, but even so, I can feel it makes you proud and happy. You’re still smiling as you rest the dishes on the table. You serve me with a plate and sit in turn opposite of me.

You wolf down the food in no time. Your face is displaying the joy of filling your stomach as it has always had before and I wonder for an instant if you really changed that much. Did you become aware of our curse? Or did you just drop by without much thinking?

When you’re done, you eventually find out that I didn’t eat anything. I’m sitting motionless, watching you in concern and all the joy withdraw of your face in a blink, giving way to worry.

“Is there something wrong? Are you still mad at me?” you ask in a sad tone.

“I’m not mad at you, Kakarott,” I sigh, “I was just wondering why you showed up.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand while your eyes let me know that you’re thinking hard of the answer. “Well… I thought… We haven’t seen each other for a long time and I wanted to see how you’re doing. This place is really isolated, don’t you ever see people?”

“Trunks comes to see me sometimes, fix up some stuff in the house and I go to the town down in the valley every month or so, but in general I like it better to live on my own. See, I’m fine.”

You rest your spoon as your eyes scan the room. The decoration is quite raw. The bare walls were once white, but they’ve turned greyish and the furniture is getting old. It’s not much anyway, a sofa, a table, and chairs. Since I don’t have enough shelves and cupboards, most of my things are packed on the dusty ground up and there. I’m no good at cleaning.

You think that I’m not so fine. I can read it in your eyes and it gets on my nerves.

“Do you mind if I stay a couple of days?” you ask eventually.

I didn’t expect that. Actually, I don’t know what I expected, but somehow, I had thought that you would be back wise and knowing. Instead of that, you’re still the same clueless moron. It makes me mad.

“Vegeta?”

Your voice is low and soft, but it sounds like a threat.

“I don’t give a damn. Do as you wish but you’ll have to sleep on the couch,” I spit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I didn't expect this little thing to get such great feedback, so thank you, everyone. Also, I forgot to mention that I am no English native speaker, so don't be surprised to find some spelling/grammar mistakes (even though I cheat with a grammar software).

I’m mesmerized by the blood carried away through the plughole of the shower. As angry as I am, I let you drag me into a crazy sparring session. We fought the whole day and I ended breathless and drained. It feels like I’m reviving after a thousand years of sleep though. As if my heart had stopped beating all this time far from you. I know it’s bad. I enjoy it, but it’s bad. Your company, our physical closeness, all this is slowly pushing me to the edge again as it did two years ago.

Your hands have been around my throat for years, since that day when you spared my life for no reason. Sometimes, you’ve loosened your grip to the point of letting me believe that I was freed of you, and some other times, you’ve clenched so hard that it was painful and suffocating, but you never let go of me.

I’m wondering if you came back to end that wicked game once and for all. If it’s the case, I have to admit that I'm scared of the way you’ll do it.

Whis warned me about that. He understood the situation from the very beginning and when we turned into Gods, he hinted it would worsen. That bastard was right, he knows a lot about eternity. He knows how ruthless an endless life is, how it forces any being to look the truth in the eyes. Pretending during a lifetime is something many can do, while no one can fool themselves forever. In the end, it will be the two of us face to face and they’ll be no escape. Is it time now? The thought makes me shiver.

“Vegeta? Are you all right? Are you hurt? You've been in that bathroom for ages,” your voice echoes through the drumming of the water.

“Hurt? What could have hurt me, idiot? I was just trying to enjoy my peace,” I snap at once.

I turn off the tap as you reply.

“Sorry for bothering. Diner's ready.”

“Go, fuck yourself,” I mutter for myself.

As I join you at the kitchen table, I realize that you really took a liking in cooking over the years. The things you fix are much more edible than my usual meals and you haven't even tried to pass on the chore to me.

You’re watching me with a satisfied grin and I know you’re happy. Happy to be there with me. The thought warms me more than I’d like.

“I haven’t had such good spar in a very long time,” you claim joyfully.

I smirk at that. Of course, you haven’t and my skill as a fighter is certainly not the only reason for that. You’re reviving. Just like I am. But as your eyes linger on me, your orbs are clouded with a hint of sadness and your smile fades away.

“Why did you leave?” you ask.

I cringe at the question. How dare you ask me that? I glare back at you, silent, gulping down my food while my fist clenches nervously around my knife.

I'm debating whether you’re expressing an innocent questioning or playing dumb. You’re staring at me expectantly but I can feel your unease all the same and it gives you away. You know why I left and yet, you need to ask, no matter the awkwardness. In fact, you need to hear it aloud, but I refuse to please you by wording it and I pinch my lips in annoyance.

“I mean, two years ago, last time we sparred - You left so brutally and never showed up again. You even suppressed your ki to prevent me from finding you for a while. Why was that?” you insist like a moron.

It takes me all I have not to blush – Gosh, I really hope I don’t. “No idea, tell me?” I grunt with a frown.

Now, I pray with all my soul that you won’t give me that silly face of yours, the one you have when you think hard about something pathetically obvious.

You keep your stern look though and I’m grateful for that at least.

“It wasn’t such a big deal,” you murmur.

“No? Then why did you stay away for two years? I’ve only hidden my ki for a couple of months. You could have found me after that. You could have come to tell me it hadn’t been such a big deal. You could, but you never did.”

The words pour out of my mouth before I can hold them back. I’m angry. Pain makes me angry. Pain is like a weakness. I wish I wouldn’t feel it, especially in front of you. And yet, it’s always in front of you that I feel it the most.

You have a confused pout as you lower your eyes to the content of your plate. You toy nervously with your food. “I’m sorry, Vegeta,” you whispered. “I missed you all the same. I guess I was…”

“Scared?” I offer.

You’re startled and you frown in deny although you still won’t look me in the eyes. “Why would I be scared of such a thing? You just, hm, slipped up for an instant. That’s it. I told you I never took it very seriously.”

You’re such a bad liar. The efforts you make to pretend everything’s fine hurt me.

Your eyes were so wide that day, your cheeks were so crimson. The shock was all over your face. You didn’t push me away but it was only because you were too stunned by my move, and I have to admit that at that time, I didn’t give a damn if you were truly willing to have my lips on yours and my tongue in your mouth. I enjoyed every bit of it. If it hadn’t been for my damn pride snatching me back to reality, I would have kept going on until you were able to word your rejection of me. But then, I read the anger and the shame in your eyes and the humiliation was so deep that I left before you could utter one word. And after that, you ignored me during two damn long years.

And now, you expect me to believe that it wasn’t such a big deal. Who are you trying to fool?

I push my plate away and I walk wordlessly to my room, slamming the door behind me. I collapse on my old mattress and I lock my eyes to the ceiling without seeing it. My heartbeat is going crazy. Why are you doing this to me? Why did you come in the first place? I had come to find some balance alone in that secluded place. Things weren’t quite easy, but I had been able to forget that your hands were still around my throat.

When I saw you this morning, I thought you had figured out that deadly attraction between us, but you sound as clueless as ever. As a matter of fact, I don’t believe that you’re totally clueless. I think you’re starting to feel it too and you want me to reassure you by telling you that that weird connection bounding us doesn’t exist. You want me to take care of it on my own while allowing you to deny it. Thinking of the hell I went through in the past years makes me want to kill you for being such a coward.

You give a weak knock at my door. “Vegeta.”

Your voice is low, hardly a pleading mumble. I don’t move, my eyes still on the ceiling.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you claim.

The hell, how can you say that when you’re burning me alive with innocent eyes? I can’t take it anymore. “Get off!” I roar.

My harshness is rewarded with silence but I can feel you behind the door. I do my best to ignore you. I focus hard on the ceiling. Spider webs are hanging like cotton veils in the corner. I listen to the rain tapping against the windowpane. The wind is shaking the high trees, sending some cones rolling down the roof. I try to become aware of everything but your flickering ki behind that damn door.

“Did it matter to you, what you did that day?” you eventually resume, breaking the soothing quietness of my blank mind.

The shyness in your voice makes me realize how hard you’re struggling. What do you expect with these silly questions? Are you really hoping that I’ll lull you with lies so that you can doze back to oblivion? You should know better. I’m not that nice. Besides, deny won’t save you, believe me.

I give a silent sigh. As always, my anger fades at your sheepish insistence.

“Take a huge guess,” I utter in a calm voice.

“But… We’ve known each other for so many years… And you loved Bulma, didn’t you?”

“Don’t you dare utter her name!”

I yell again. Why is that that you always feel the need to remind me of her? If I could, I’d beg you to let her go once and for all. She has nothing to do with that creepy relationship of us. She was sweetness and hope while aIl I see in us is curse and brutality. Hearing her name in that conversation makes me sick.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just…” you stammer hesitantly.

Your confusion touches me again and I cool down. You’re just completely lost. You’re discovering that mammoth that has been between us for years. You had never figured out before, because – well, because you’re just your blind, brainless self. Now, you’re puzzled about how to handle it. You still have things to sort out before you admit the truth. I swallow down my overwhelming wrath.

“Kakarott?”

“Ye.. Yeah?”

“Go to bed.”

“But… I need to understand, Vegeta…”

Your voice sounds like a plea and I’m struck by the fact that you didn’t even dare open the door of my room. You’re unable to face me right now. You crave for answers, but you’re afraid of them. You’re afraid of us, just like I am, except I know what I fear. I know the price to pay for surrendering to our darkest instincts.

I sit up and run my finger through my hair. I lean my back against the wall and fold my knee to rest my forearms on them.

“What do you want to know?” I growl halfheartedly.

“How is it that you came to, huh…”

“Kiss you?”

Not seeing your stupid face is actually a great help to have this talk.

“I lost control,” I blurt in a flat tone. I sound unaffected although I feel the blood creeping up my cheeks and I’m glad I’m not facing you.

I listen to your reaction, but there is none. There’s hardly a soft noise and I figure you just crouched down. I guess you understand that I’m hinting I have to control myself when it comes to you and you don’t like my answer, do you? I didn’t like spelling it for you, but, as I said, I’m not the nice type.

I hear your sigh after a while. “It doesn’t change anything for me, you know. I care for you and you have to know I never told anybody.”

I can’t help but laugh at that reply. What do you think I am? An unsecured teenager discovering life? As usual, you totally missed the point. I don’t give a shit if anyone knows about me kissing you and I don’t doubt a split second that you care for me and that you always will, even though you’re too afraid to look at your friendship for what it is. My lack of control is the only thing eating me away and I have to admit that I didn’t really work it out in the past two years.

Maybe I should kill you to end all this shit, but even this isn’t an option.

My laugh dies in my painful throat at that bitter thought. I press my forehead on my forearms and I close my eyes for a while.

“What’s so funny? I don’t understand,” you say and I can feel you’re hurt.

I raise my head and watch the wooden door shielding my view of you. I missed you so sorely. Only you can unsettle me that way.

“Nothing’s funny, Kakarott. I took note of what you said. You can go and sleep now.”

I hear you standing up quietly. Through the gap between the door and the floor, I see all the lights turned off one by one in the living room, and then the noise of the front door opened and slammed shut.

A heavy silence falls on the house and I have a shiver. A feeling of loneliness freezes me to the bones, but it could be worst.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello There. Thank you. Thank you for the comment, Hyacinthblue.

I wake up at the smell of frying eggs and sausages. I’m lying on my bed above the sheets with my clothes from yesterday still on. My ribs and my neck hurt like hell from our sparring session, but the thought that you’re certainly aching as much as I do is enough of a solace. Strange how the pain makes me feel alive.

I stay motionless for an instant, listening to the rattling of cooking pots coming from the kitchen.

So, you came back in the end.

I hadn’t thought you would. You sounded so upset and confused yesterday night. I thought that you would need some time to process our little talk.

I forgot you’re so naïve sometimes, you’re like a child despite your old age and I’m pretty sure, you don’t grasp the message I’m trying to send you. You just think I’m a mystery. I wonder if you even question yourself.

I shouldn’t be surprised to find you back anyway.

I sit up and stretch, cracking my reluctant bones. You fucking ruined me. I end up getting up and I exit my bedroom with a yawn.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table and wolfing down your breakfast in your very personal way. As soon as I show up, you look up and beam at me.

“Morning, Vegeta,” you cheerfully exclaim.

You’re so loud. I don’t bother answering as I make my way straight to the bathroom to take a leak. You don’t mind though and you carry on, your voice as happy as ever following me in that private moment.

“Your pantry is nearly empty. We should go buy some food.”

Shut up. I slam the door of the bathroom to pee in peace. You don’t give up though.

“I thought we could go to Satan City. I can Instant transmit us to Gohan. That way we could also pay him a visit.”

I sigh and flush the toilet. When I come back to the living room, you’re staring at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. I have none give right now. I head for the coffee maker and grab the coffee pot on the shelf.

“What do you think? It would do you some good to see people,” you insist.

I’m struggling with the spoon buried in the brown powder. I get worked up over my attempt at fishing it out and your constant babbling doesn’t help.

“No,” I growl, hoping it will be enough to silence you. Foolish move, of course.

“Why not? I’m sure Gohan will be…”

“Get out of my hair, Kakarott,” I roar. I drop the pot and some of the coffee spread on the ground.

You keep quiet at last, watching me as I pick the pot impatiently. I don’t even bother collecting the powder scattered on the floor and I start fixing the coffee. I ignore your puzzled eyes on me. I just want my fucking coffee.

While the machine is processing its job, I lean my back against the counter with my arms crossed and I find myself face to face with you, still gazing at me.

“When was last time you saw someone Vegeta? Except for Trunks, I mean.”

I shrug. “What’s that for a question? I went to the village down in the valley two weeks ago.”

You have a slight frown. “That’s not what I mean. I’m speaking of friends, family, people who matter. Your daughter, for example.”

Bulla.

I haven’t thought of her in a while. I love that kid - even though she’s no longer a kid.

Unfortunately, she hates my place. What she likes is comfort, company, technology and I have none of that here. We were very close when she was younger but we’ve turned out to be very different over the years. I have an easier connection with Trunks now. He’s more compromising and he accepts what I am while his sister can’t help but try to fix everything that bothers her in my lifestyle. I know she only does it out of concern for me but it’s tiring all the same and we often end up arguing. She definitely acts like her mother, except she’s not her mother and she’s not my wife.

The last time she came was one of these Earthling celebrations, like the end of the year or a birthday maybe. She spent two days complaining about the cold, the leaks in the walls, the freaky bugs sneaking into the house, and the blood of my hunt. As always, she eventually asked me why I kept living in that awful shed in the middle of nowhere when I could enjoy a neat villa downtown in West City, and then she left, begging me to come to visit her instead of forcing her to come back to this place.

Your loud sigh snatches me out of my memories of her amazing blue eyes. I blink and check the coffee maker. The steamy brown liquid is waiting for me, his familiar smell teasing me.

“Your family’s worried for you," you say as I fill my cup.

“Drop it, Kakarrot. They're not,” I grunt in annoyance. This talk and your sorry face are starting to get on my nerves.

“Bulla does,” you murmur.

You’ve spoken in such a low voice, it was like you didn't want me to hear you, but it's too late. I cringe as realization hits me.

You saw her. My mood darkens instantly while my guts twist in a painful manner.

“So, you met her. She’s the one sending you here,” I state in a growl.

“Send me? Vegeta, nobody ‘sent’ me. I came on my own,” you object, fake surprise painted all over your face.

Your eyebrows are raised in disbelief, but I don’t buy it. I know her and I know you. Your brain can’t compete with hers and you stand no chance if she decides to coax you into doing something. I can literally visualize her watering eyes as she told you I was turning wild, living alone in the wood away from my family. She must have pouted in her unique way, expressing her complete dismay. A dismay a heart like yours can’t ignore. And so you ran to me, hoping to fix everything like you always do.

While I had stupidly thought that you’d eventually come because of your feelings for me.

Oddly enough, my anger is slow to burst. The overwhelming pain clouds it. It feels like a sharp, burning dagger sinking in my stomach and taking my breath away.

I rest my coffee in a surprisingly calm gesture. Glaring up at you, I manage to keep my composure.

“I’m going out for my morning training. When I come back, I want you gone,” I utter with a dry mouth.

Your features break into astonishment. “Wh… What? Why? I…”

I leave you to your pathetic stammering and I exit the house. Paying no mind to the crisp air, I make my way out of the wood in the direction of the pound. I stride off. I’m almost running, seeing nothing around me, trying to keep my mind blank.

It’s a lost cause though. My train of thought is back on its track, setting my mind ablaze.

I’ve been so idiotic. You never forgave me for the kiss. You never figured anything out. You’re just the same embarrassed clown, clueless and ashamed, and if it hadn’t been for my damn daughter snooping on me, you would have stayed away from me for as long as you could. Don’t you see how hard your closeness affects me? Are you so oblivious of what I am? Of what _we_ are, indeed?

I don’t know what hurts the most. The feeling of rejection or pride. It’s a mix, I guess, but fuck the pain in my chest is suffocating.

Anger eventually worms its way to my heart. I hate you. I hate me. I hate both of us.

I feel like blowing up and I realize that I’m sprinting away now while your voice is calling me in the distance. I should fly off but the effort of my muscles relieves my burning nerves and the coldness somehow helps me keeping control of my mind.

Suddenly, your arms are around my waist and I stumble down. Fucking Instant Transmission. I hit the ground hard and my sore ribs send a wave of pain throughout my body.

I’m stuck to the ground by the weight of your body on me. I instantly freak out at your closeness. I need you off of me, or else… I struggle to escape your grip but you grasp my wrists and pin them down on the muddy ground while your knees block my legs. You’re leaning on me and your face is just above mine, your stern eyes digging into mines, displaying a mix of concern and irritation.

That’s when I become fully aware of you. Your scent, your strength, your mighty ki. Your touch. It’s too late. I know a trigger has been pulled somewhere in the depths of my mind. I stop fighting your grip although I could get rid of you if I really wanted to.

Do I want it?

I watch numbly at your shining orbs.

“Vegeta,” you say in a deep voice I’ve never heard coming from you. “What’s wrong with you?”

My breath is getting hectic and I’m faintly panting. I realize I’m close to losing control again. It can’t happen though. I blink and force my focus off of you. You’re only here to do your savior’s job and I won’t bear with you thinking I need to be saved.

I snigger.

“Nothing’s wrong, Kakarott. Leave, report to Bulla that I’m fine, and forget me again. I promise I’ll live with that.”

Your expression shifts into sadness and disbelief. “Forget you? I never forgot you and I never will. How could I? Is that what you think? That I forgot you and that Bulla was the one to remind me of you?”

Your bursts of lucidity are always annoyingly ill-timed.

“I came here because I missed you, but Bulla’s right, Vegeta. You’re not fine,” you add.

Your voice is soft now as if you’re willing to comfort me. You’re gazing at me and trying to read my face while it’s getting harder for me to keep a nonchalant composure. Your grip around my wrists loosens, but I still don’t move or attempt to escape you.

Your closeness is thrilling me and my thoughts are blurring as your warmth feels overwhelming. I don’t want you to let go of me.

“Kakarrot,” I whisper.

You lean closer to me to hear my words. I can feel your breath on my skin and it's incredibly tantalizing. Up from that moment, I know that I only have two options left. Giving up to any control and dignity, or giving you just what you deserve for being such an idiot.

My fist smashes your cheekbones so quickly that you have no time to dodge. You roll away from me with a yell and I jump on you. I hit again. You fend off, hoping to your feet and flying away.

It’s not enough. You pulled the trigger and now I want more. More of you.

I storm up to you, seized by sheer fury.

I want to kill you. You seem to sense it somehow and you don’t even try to argue. You know that we’re beyond words now. This sick game has to end.

Your hands must either choke me to death or release me once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a word to clear something out. As I said it's my first time writing Kakavege even though I always considered them as the most credible yaoi pairing of DB's world. Their underlying bound is everywhere in the original story. 
> 
> Still, there are a lot of things in the way preventing them to act on their feelings and I hold their personalities as the biggest problem of all. Their Saiyan side is often used as the best excuse to remove that obstacle, but I enjoy tricky and twisted plots. So, I just wanted to warn you that my characters won't jump on each other because of a full moon or thanks to a providential tail growing back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you for all the nice things.

I try to heave my head but an excruciating pain immediately orders me not to and I drop my skull straight back on the pillow.

My body is wrecked. I recognize the aching of burnt skin and broken bones, and my left eye is so swollen that I can’t open it. A throbbing headache tops it all.

I’m lying on my couch and I can see the darkening daylight through the window. The soft warmth and the woody smell of the fire in the hearth are soothing. Everything’s quiet.

I sigh and even that slight movement of my chest is rewarded with aching. It’s been years since I haven’t found myself in such a pathetic state.

“You overdid it again,” a voice states.

From the corner of my eye, I make out the familiar figure of my son. He walks closer until I have him fully in view and he gives me a smile. The soft but sad type of smile. “I had naively thought you’d cooled down over the years, but you’re still the same,” he chuckles gently.

I can sense his concern over the humor.

“Kakarott,” I mumble in annoyance. You had to get Trunks.

He crouches down next to the sofa to be at my level. “You scared the shit out of him. He’s trying to get some beans from Master Korin. How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” I grunt. My voice sounds like a hoarse grumbling. My lips are swollen and I think some of my teeth are missing or broken.

“I have some painkiller. Do you want some?” Trunks offers.

As a reply, I just glare at him. He knows too well what I think of human medicine. Even the strongest painkillers have barely any effect on me anyway.

He nods. “That’s what I thought. Goku wanted me to take you to the Capsule’s hospital but I thought you wouldn’t like it and I didn’t want you to mess up the whole place like you did last time.”

Although I would never admit it aloud, it’s good to have Trunks by my side. He always has the right intuition about me.

“Are you hungry?” he resumes.

I don’t answer. My head is spinning. I just feel desperately weak and broken. You almost did it, it seems. You almost killed me. I forced you to. You failed though. What a pity.

Trunks walks away to the kitchen and comes back with a tray, dragging one of the kitchen chairs behind him.

He settles the chair in front of the couch and sits down. I smell the steaming food and it kind of wakes me up completely.

Trunks rests the tray on the floor. “You’ll have to sit up first,” he claims.

I dread this ordeal but I have no choice. The pain is killing me as I hoist myself up with the help of my arms. Trunks doesn’t make a move to assist me. He knows I wouldn’t stand it. He watches me patiently, unimpressed by my grimacing face as I repress the whimpers trying to make their way up my throat.

The hell, even sitting is an agony. I’m starving though and I stare greedily at the bowl Trunks is handing me like a reward for my effort. The food is smashed, almost a soup, but it’s good nevertheless. It’s hard to eat properly with swollen lips and broken teeth, not to mention my jaw is aching as well.

Trunks is still staring at me and he ends up fetching a towel wordlessly so that I can clean myself when I’m done. When I give him the empty bowl, I met his quiet eyes. He won’t say nothing and yet, I can read the questioning and the worries on his face.

You might have been scared by my injuries, Kakarrot, but you’re not the only one. Trunks is still in shock even though he does his best to hide it. He thought I’d been over and done with our passionate rivalry and he wonders why I keep inflicting this on myself again and again.

It’s no longer about rivalry, although the passion remains, but how would he know? I never told him anything about you and me.

He says nothing and asks nothing either way. It’s easier that way.

He takes the bowl and places it back on the tray while I’m lying back on the couch. “If Goku doesn’t get beans, you’ll need someone to take care of you,” he claims as he stands up.

“I don’t need anything,” I grumble.

Doziness is catching up with me and I feel my mind drifting away already.

Trunks ignores my words of course. “I guess you don’t want to come to my place and I can’t come to visit you every day, so unless you’d rather me tell Bulla about the situation, Goku will stay by your side until you’re better”

“Fuck won’t…” I murmur, but I’m not sure what it was I wanted to say. My thoughts are fading away and before I know it, everything blacks out.

When I wake up, the lights are off. The house is silent and dark. The warmth of the fire is gone and I find myself lying in my bed, wrapped in a thick cover.

Something is amiss though. There’s someone next to me. Glancing aside, I see your senseless hair. You’re curled up next to me with your forehead pressed again my arm and you’re completely motionless. I can sense your regular breath heaving your chest while your slight snoring tells me you’re sleeping. You had to fall asleep right here, next to me in my bed. Damn you.

When I try to move away, my muscles scream in pain and I repress a grunt. Fuck, everything hurts in that damn body. I guess the cat hadn’t any beans in the end.

Whatever, I’ve seen worse.

For now, I have a pressing matter to handle. I have to go to the bathroom and there’s no way I’ll let you meddle with that.

I slide carefully to the edge of the bed, holding my breath and praying that you won’t wake up. You don’t though. Your head rolls on the mattress, but you keep dozing. You're exhausted, no surprise.

I can’t stand up. One of my legs is fully bandaged and it won’t support my weight. I have to levitate my way to the bathroom.

When I’m done there, I’m starving again. The healing process is eating all my energy away and Trunk’s meal wasn’t really much.

I have no choice but to keep floating across the living room and to the kitchen. Yet, if that way of moving is sparing my ruined body, it’s still an effort for my brain and the trip from the bedroom to the bathroom has already started a nagging headache.

I’m dizzy. Maybe I should take it easy but damn, it’s only a few meters up to the counter of the kitchen. It can’t be that bad. Except it is, and I only realize it when I collapse like a wreck mid-way, dragging a chair in my fall and crashing the wooden piece of furniture in the process.

The shock against the ground is a tsunami of sheer suffering throughout my bones and muscles and I can’t help but yell both in frustration and in pain.

I had forgotten what it meant to ache that way. It’s been such a long time since the last time I had to endure such agony. We haven’t had a real fight in a while and even so, we often had beans to heal in the blink of an eye. I was never aware of how convenient these shits were.

I sit still with closed eyes in an attempt to tame the awful pain.

“Vegeta? Are you okay? What happened?” your voice whispers.

I shiver at the sound. I forgot you were here. I keep quiet, my eyes still closed as I’m focusing on my breath in hopes of soothing the terrible aching.

“Do you want me to help you?”

Your voice is closer, now at the level of my ears. You’ve kneeled down next to me and I sense your hesitation as you see me that way.

Little by little, the suffering fades away. I open my eyes and look up at you.

In the twilight, I make out your face, half of it swollen and bruised. Your lips are split as well. The sight is pitiful, really, but it’s nothing compared to what you did to me.

You’re watching me in concern. “Do you need anything? I can get it for you. You should go back to bed. I don’t even know how you could get up in the first place,” you say in a hushed tone.

“Do you really think you’d be able to confine me to bed?” I hiss in annoyance.

My answer seems to relieve you even if it wasn’t what I intended. You give me a shy smile. As you keep staring at me, your eyes are shiny, somehow watering, and you look like you’re about to hug me. I get ready to dodge your touch, but you don’t make a move.

“I… I thought I had killed you for an instant,” you say in a shaky voice.

I feel like yelling that it had been the point of the fight, yet for some reason, I prevent myself from doing so.

“You’re unable to kill me,” I state instead.

It sounds so true at that moment that I realize that I might be the one with my hands around your throat after all.

You look hurt. It almost makes me feel guilty. Actually, I’m angry, but I don’t know why and it makes me even madder.

You don’t retort anything. You just look away and you stand up slowly. “I guess you’re starving. Trunks told me you didn’t have a lot to eat tonight,” you resume.

You reach out to me as to help me get up in turn, but I slap your offer away. “I can still stand on my own,” I growl impatiently.

“Of course,” you sigh.

You make your way to the counter and you start busy yourself with the pans while I’m pathetically creeping my way up to sit in a chair.

You’re giving me your back but I study your every move. It seems that you did take a liking into cooking and even though I hate being nursed by you that way, I have to admit that I like your food much better than mine. Most of all, the truth is I’m too weak to fix a snack anyway.

“Vegeta… I thought…”

You stammer. You’re hesitant again. I assume you want to tell me something embarrassing and I’m not in the mood for that.

“Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” I grumble harshly.

You stop rummaging through the dishes and you let out a heavy sigh. Actually, it sounds more like you’re bracing yourself for something awkward. And I don’t like it.

You turn to me and your nervous hands grab the edge of the counter as a support, which looks like a bad sign to me.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

I raise an eyebrow at this unexpected question. Almost everything you do upsets me in a way or another. That’s nothing new.

“You wanted to kill me today, didn’t you? Ever since I arrived, I see you angry, all the time. I mean, you were always the moody type, but now, you hardly ever ease down. You also accused me of forgetting you,” you explain, your voice low and sad.

Your face is meek and pained and against all odds, it numbs my anger. I think I feel sorry. Yet, I’ve never known how to convey comfort, let alone how to express apologies - As a matter of fact, I don’t know how to express any feelings except anger and annoyance - so I just keep quiet.

“It hurts,” you add after a while as if I hadn’t understood the message.

I pinch my painful lips in unease. “I guess, I’m no longer used to dealing with people,” I eventually growl – which is the best thing I can find to say you’re not at fault, but you should maybe leave me alone.

You tilt your head, with your burning eyes still locked on me, and you look like you’re mulling over what I said, but unsurprisingly, my hint is too subtle for someone like you.

“You’re not happy,” you claim all of a sudden. “And I hate seeing you like that. I know you won’t tell me what’s wrong, but I’ll figure out, trust me. I’ll figure out and I’ll fix it.”

Your speech is strong-willed, leaving no place for objection. It’s weird to see you so adamant and it reminds me of how strong you are inside despite your lenient look. However, no matter how touching your words are, I don’t want your clueless self to mess up with my hectic, conflicted feelings.

“Sorry to disappoint you but I don’t need to be saved, Kakarrot. I’m not ‘unhappy’, as you say. I might just get a bit restless at that never-ending life, that’s it.” I answer with a frown.

Of course, you don’t believe me. I can read it on your face. You rarely grasp what’s going on around you, but once you do, there’s no way to have you let it go. Lucky for me, you have mercy on my aching, exhausted, starving self.

“Anyway. You need to eat and rest, for now,” you state as you’re turning back to your cooking.

I give a silent sigh of relief. I hate it when you start to connect the dots, especially when I’m starting to have a hard time keeping my emotions at bay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. I'm glad you enjoy this. Thank you for your support. 
> 
> So that you know: some lime in this one.

I’m flexing my hand, studying the movements of my finger as I open and close my fist. It’s no longer as painful as it was yesterday. The rest of my body is still a mess but that, at least, works.

I sigh and I slip my hand underneath the cover.

I managed to get rid of you by sending you out to go fishing. It wasn’t that hard. Hinting that I was fed up with meat has been enough to have you all cheerful and excited on your way to the river and I can eventually enjoy the peace of the house.

What I said yesterday wasn’t completely wrong, I’m not used to company anymore and your presence is downright overwhelming.

Even when you’re out, you’re still there though.

Your exhilarating scent fills my whole room. It’s everywhere. In the air, in the bedding, even in my damn own clothes. I told you not to sleep in my bed, but you did it anyway. You claimed that I needed to be watched and I was too drained to stand up. You definitely make me weak and now, I’m drenched with that heady smell of yours.

It’s a bit too much for me. I’ve been holding on for too long.

I start rubbing my groin in slow motion. I haven’t done this in a while. I don’t know why, maybe because I’ve been trying hard to keep control of myself by blocking every thought of you. Or maybe I’m just getting old.

My body is so responsive to my own touch that I guess I’m not getting that old.

There was a time in my life when sex mattered a lot.

I was young then but it’s weird how accurately I can remember that part of my past while many more pleasant memories are blurring. Over the years, I came to realize that it’s not up to me to choose what I remember the best. As frustrating as it stands, my mind has its own odd will on that matter.

Memories of my youth weren’t exactly good memories though and the sex I remember was far from what I experienced on Earth. Like everything in the Ice-Jinn’s world, it was a question of strength and power. It was nothing like giving and receiving, it was more like ripping away and being robbed. It was dirty and brutal.

With some hindsight, I realize what a good job Nappa and Raditz did at protecting me since they kept me out of that madness until I was past sixteen. It has been an amazing feat considering the perversion of Freeza’s army. The higher-ranked, the nastier - and I’ve been quite high-ranked at some point too.

Anyway, it all started when I was sixteen or so. I can’t remember my first time very precisely but it came to me as a violent revelation. I hadn’t been totally clueless of course - Raditz and Nappa had seen to that - and I had already witnessed a lot of things on my own, but still, I hadn’t expected such wildness. I recall mighty arms slamming my face to the ground and rough hands roaming eagerly my body as I’m hopelessly struggling to keep breathing.

While that kind of sex broke some of the soldiers, others, like me, just grew stronger with it. I guess Freeza was enough of a sicko to use it as a way to select the toughest and the craziest fighters of his army. It suited me perfectly anyway. I hadn’t known anything else than violence in my life and my will to survive and to surpass everyone had turned into an obsession with no boundaries.

A few months later, I killed two of the three men that had come down on me that day - the third one had been out of reach then. It had nothing to do with revenge however, it was more like getting heaven scores, to show them what it cost to boast about a single victory.

There have been many more partners after that and some details of my countless sexual sessions still pop up in my mind from time to time. The strong smell of all sorts of bodily fluids, feral grunts in my ears, the pain, the discomfort. And pleasure.

I can’t deny there has been pleasure too. Great pleasure. That’s the strangest and the most embarrassing fact. I wanted it and I enjoyed it.

Each fuck felt like one more fight on my way. Sometimes, I’ve been defeated and some other times, I’ve been the one defeating, but I’ve always been rewarded with a mind-numbing ecstasy.

I think I had turned somewhat addicted to it at some point.

Then I met her – Bulma…

Whatever.

She showed me something different, something I never had a chance to suspect before. The more infatuated I was with her, the more disgusted I was of myself. I heard her friends marveling at how well I had redeemed myself by sacrificing my shitty self to protect Earth. They never pictured the half of it. Lucky for me, she was wiser and she never tried to figure out. She just took me the way I was while I did my best to bury that shit in the overcrowded sewer of my memories.

Yet, I guess, shits always end up surfacing. Especially on the very long run of an almost godly Saiyan.

Actually, it started to stink the day I met you. You spared my life with no more effort than a few kind words. You’d never been aware of what you did that day. You defeated me and it called for a rematch. You forced me to chase you to erase my humiliation. I could never break you the way I wished though. I tried. I tried hard, really, I was obsessed with you, but it was hopeless. You’ve always been stronger than me.

And still, you wouldn’t kill me. You wouldn’t even hurt me. You just kept caring for me instead, teasing me sorely.

I quickly figured out what this twisted relationship would lead us to, but as long as she was by my side, I was safe. No matter how strong my yearning was, my lust for you only reminded me of all the fleeting fucks I was trying to forget and it was enough to keep me away.

But then, she died. She’s long gone now and I find myself defenseless, face to face with that burning attraction for you.

I refuse to go down that hill again though. Most of all, I refuse to drag you down there. You’re worth so much more.

My breath is quickening as I’m massaging my flesh in sharp gesture. It’s amazing how one part of your body can feel so good while the rest is just bloody pulp.

I close my eyes and keep going.

The pleasure is so overwhelming that it slowly overcomes the stabbing pain of my injuries. I get swallowed in the trance as pictures of you start to dance in my mind. I remember the feeling of your closeness when you leaned on me while holding my wrists pinned to the ground and the sound of your voice as you asked me what was wrong. Your intoxicating scent makes me dizzy.

As I grow more and more excited, I allow my brain to go further. I imagine you kissing me, your tongue eagerly caressing mine while you stroke me relentlessly.

Everything slips out of control and I get lost in the powerful image my mind composed for me. So lost, I hear myself murmuring your name. I spill myself pathetically even before I can see it coming. It’s like a shock wave shaking my whole body, snatching a low groan out of my lips. The pleasure is so deep that the aching of my wounds feels like some distant, meaningless sensation in comparison.

The delight lingers as I’m lying breathless in the quiet bedroom, my mind numb and blank behind my closed eyelids. I’m unable to collect my thoughts. I just let go. Everything is peaceful and I lose track of time at some point.

I shiver at the sensation of a gentle touch brushing my hair. I blink at the sight of your figure towering above me. You’re standing next to the bed and looking down at me. I frown in confusion. Did you just caress my head? Or did I dream it?

I forget the question as soon as I realize that I fell asleep without cleaning the trace of my personal pleasure. It must be dry now, but I still shift to make sure the cover won’t slide down and give me away. I’m also wondering in embarrassment whether you can smell it. I should have been more careful.

You crouch down and cross your forearms on the mattress for support. “It’s good to see you rest. How do you feel?” you ask in a gentle tone.

“Fine,” I grunt. Seriously. Do you really need to point out what a creep I’ve become after you beat the pulp out of me? I dream of a shower and some fresh air and I’m stuck in that room reeking of you and me, dozing like a 100-year-old man, going out like a light without even noticing.

You smile wordlessly, eyes locked on me. Then, you rummage in one of your pockets. “I got something for you,” you claim.

You fish out a tiny item and press it on my mouth. Before I know it, my lips part and your fingers edge their way to my tongue. You put down your gift there and you withdraw your fingers in an oddly slow manner. I’m confused by your gesture. Are you aware of how sensually you’re acting? It’s hard to say. You just look concerned.

As I watch you back, I notice that all the bruises on your face have vanished and it makes me understand that you just gave me a bean.

Your eyes don’t let go of me as my aching jaw cautiously munches the small ball. It takes time until I can smash it entirely so that I’m able to swallow it. You stare at me during the whole process, as if it might not work for once.

Of course, it does. A rush of energy washes over my body and the pain disappears at once.

You grin at me and you lean closer over my face. You’re so close, it feels like your about to kiss my lips. I hold my breath as sheer panic seizes me.

You don’t kiss me though. You keep studying my face, your smile shyer now. “Better, now? I have fish for you,” you say in a low voice.

It takes me all I have not to yank your shirt to drag you down to me. Instead, I try to sit up in order to force you away from me. “I’ll take a shower first,” I grunt, my tone as flat as possible.

You’re slow to back away though and you don’t leave me any space to straighten myself. I eventually have to press my palm on your chest to have you move away from me.

My touch seems to bring you back to reality. You stand up hastily with a backlash. “Great. It will leave me some time to get the fish ready,” you reply while looking away.

I’m grateful when I eventually find myself enjoying the privacy of the shower. I’m half-hard already and I wonder. Were you trying something just now? Are you starting to feel that damn attraction too? You sure looked like you are, but you’re so dense sometimes, you’re hard to read.

I know for a fact that you’ve been lusting me as much as I’ve been lusting you for all these years. I know where this yearning comes from and how it’s supposed to end, but I have no clue about the way it works for someone like you. You’re nothing near Freeza’s soldiers. You’re pure and strong. Actually, I have to admit that I’m flabbergasted by your ability to ignore this disturbing feeling for decades.

Even so, I’ve always been aware that it would come out one day or another and I think this time has come. If I’m right, my next question is how will you react? For some reason, I always believed that you would stand up and help me fight these inglorious instincts, but I’m not so sure now. What if you can’t hold back? I’m afraid it will be the end of us.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, how d'ya say that again? Rough Sex? Huh, yep. So: rough sex, I guess. 
> 
> Thank you.

The strong hand clutches my ankle and my body is carried away, gliding over the tiled floor.

I try to kick my opponent away with my free leg, but it only results in my second ankle getting caught in flight.

I’m flipped on my back as the mighty arms keep dragging me closer to their dreadful owner. I fight the move frantically, squirming, shaking my legs, scratching hopelessly the smooth floor. It’s all in vain.

I could call for help if there were any help to hope for, but it might just bring more troubles.

My attacker presses his knees on my laps to block me once and for all. His weight feels like a ton of bricks and when I lift myself up, I’m trapped face to face with him.

His features are fine and delicate, his complexion a pale green, but I know better than relying on the pleasant sight. If anything, his eyes give his true nature away and a shiver runs down my spine when I meet them.

I lose no time. I throw a powerful punch aiming at his jaw. He avoids the blow effortlessly with a swift backlash of his chest.

He's smirking at me, utter enjoyment shining through his face. He likes it. Good for him, because I’m going to give him more.

Gathering all my rage, I try a headbutt. Yet, my forehead lands in his wide palm while his other hand suddenly clasps the nap of my neck and I end stuck with only my arms free.

As a last resort, I batter his ribcage non-stop with forceful punches, using my free hand keeps pushing him away.

He’s definitely stronger than me though and he doesn’t even budge. He just laughs at my poor attempts to get rid of him.

We’ve been struggling for a while already and I’m tiring. As my blows weaken inevitably, he brings my head closer to him and he murmurs in my ear. “You like to fight back, don’t you? I enjoy it too. Let’s see how long you’ll last.”

I can feel his hot breath grazing my skin. He smells of sweat mixed with an oddly sweet scent.

Suddenly, he let go of my head and his hands enclose my throat instead. He slowly tightens his grip as I keep battling. My lungs quickly run short of air and the pain in my neck becomes unbearable while stars start to dance before my eyes. I’m hardly aware of my body being tilted backward to the ground.

I’m dizzy and dazed for a moment. The only thing I perceive is the aching of my neck and my need for air. Little by little, I realize that the vice around my throat is gone. I’m lying on my back and my pants have been ripped away.

I regain total consciousness the moment my legs are shoved apart, still pinned to the ground by the heavy knees of the other guy. I raise my upper body painfully and I find the strength to punch his shoulder. His muscles are like concrete. My move hardly stirs him. All I earn is his attention. He looked up at me, his eyes evil and gleeful.

He grabs my jaw and he yanks me closer to him. “Everyone says that you’re the tightest ass in that damn base. I can’t wait to check it for myself,” he growls.

“There’s a dear price to pay for that, you’re sure you can afford it?” I hiss menacingly, sputtering blood and saliva in the process.

He smirks at my words and he runs his tongue over my check with a pleased humming. I place my hands on his shoulders to push him back with all my strength, but it’s not enough. I feel his free hand handling my groin. I try to back away, but I fail again. I’m helplessly stuck, with my legs open and my privates in the open. And I’m starting to be helplessly turned on too.

I arch as his fingers sneak inside me and I blurt a yelp. “Bastard! Don’t,” I bark.

He knocks me down back to the ground again and my head hits the floor, but I have no time to linger on the pain, concerned by the feeling of him sinking deeper into me.

“Don’t give me orders, now,” he growls threateningly while leaning over me.

Once again, I try to rebuff him, but he tightens his grip on my jaw as retaliation and I stop. I let him have his way for a moment. He works me up, three fingers inside me while his thumb is rubbing my balls and the base of my cock.

I’m aware that I’m growing hard. I can’t help it. I know in anticipation that this sick mind of mine will end up enjoying it, especially considering the guy is good at what he’s doing.

I grimace as pleasure starts teasing my body. I can’t bear with his cocky stare and I close my eyes.

I’m rewarded with a brutal shove of my head, which hits the floor again. “Don’t!” he commands harshly.

When I open my eyes to glare at him, I’m greeted with a mocking smirk. He withdraws his fingers and he shifts closer to me so that our lower parts are in touch.

I feel his hardness for the first time. He’s still dressed up with his spandex uniform while I only have my top on. He rubs himself against me. The contact is rough and yet, my pleasure grows at the sensation. His free hand slipped under my clothes and roams my ribcage, running up to my chest as he keeps moving. “Great,” he comments in a murmur.

I sense his increasing lust, I read it in his wicked eyes. Before I know it, I hear myself grunt. It makes him laugh.

His hand stops caressing my skin and goes down to his groin. He undoes blindly his pants and I feel his skin as he rests his cock on mine. He strokes them in turn.

I try to silence myself, but my breath is getting hectic. I can’t help but pant and gasp. I'm aware that my glare is fading to give way to a dazed look. I read the delight in his eyes. Delight of the winner.

All of a sudden, he lets go of my jaw and he straightens himself, kneeling between my laps and gripping my thighs. His move is so quick and unexpected that I have no time to react. He lifts my butt and positions himself at my entrance.

I try to twist my body away, but he keeps going, unconcerned while holding my thighs firmly in place. He thrusts in without a second thought, his motion slow but relentless.

The pain is intense and I yell, balling my fists and punching the floor. Instinctively, I arch as to wrap my legs around his waist and adjust the angle.

He doesn’t care. He just pushes further with an appreciative groan until he’s fully inside. He stops there. He’s panting at the intense pleasure. I feel him pulsing inside me as the pain dissipates.

He gazes at me. Curiously, he’s not so cocky anymore. He licks his lips. “Ready for a big ride?” he chuckles. What a dickhead. I can say he won’t last long. Fucking bastard.

He pulls backward and I grit my teeth at the discomfort. I also grit my teeth because I know what’s ahead. He comes back in full force and lucky for me, he does it right. I can’t prevent a yelp from escaping my mouth. I hear him curse in his own language too.

He keeps moving in brutal thrusts. We’re both moaning and grunting, oblivious of who we are and how we ended there. I get lost in the pleasure. In the haze of my mind, I hear him mumbling words in his native language. Certainly, some dirty talk, why should I care?

At some point, he leans over me and he rests one hand next to my head for support.

His scent overwhelms me disturbingly. His face is also too close. I can study all the details of his ecstatic expression. It gets somewhat too personal for my taste. I dislike this unwanted intimacy. The position is better though. He gets deeper and gives me more while his abs rub my cock in a delightful manner. His free hand starts stroking me too. I’m not far from reaching my peak.

He does it first though. He spills himself inside me with a coarse scream. I’m just behind, groaning as I spread myself between his fingers.

When the trance fades, he’s still in me. Breathless, eyes closed, enjoying the last bit of it. I shove him away and he rolls aside.

I struggle to my feet as soon as I’m freed of him. My pants are gone and I only have my boots on. I stumble away to fetch the cloak he’s thrown away during our fight and I drape myself into it to hide my nudity.

Then, I turn to him. He’s still sitting on the ground, glancing at me with a smirk. “They’re right about your ass,” he says while pulling his pants back.

Anger washes over me as I meet his amused eyes. I hate him.

I look down at my hand poking out of the cloak. It has been skinned and bruised in the battle and one of the fingers is certainly broken. I don’t have much stamina left, but I summon everything I have in my palm, forming a tiny ball of energy.

He’s oblivious of my acting, getting up and adjusting his clothes. I don’t hesitate.

The blast isn’t a powerful one but it flies straight to his face. He tosses his head just in time to dodge the blow but his cheek still gets ripped away. He howls in surprise and pain. Turning to me, he gives me a deadly glare, the side of his face nothing more than a bloody pulp by now.

I like that look much better and I smirk boldly at him.

I sense Raditz and Nappa’s ki behind me as they suddenly storm into the room. “Vegeta?” Nappa grunts.

The other guy is jumping straight to me like a berserk, his hands reaching out for my throat, but Nappa’s quicker. My good dog steps in, engaging a fight that might leave him battered and wrecked.

I feel Raditz's arms wrapping my frame and dragging me away. “For fuck’s sake, Vegeta!” he hisses in fear and disapproval.

“Let me go!” I shout. “I’ll kill him!”

Sheer boasting, I know, but I don’t care. It feels good.

“Vegeta!”

“Vegeta?”

Your voice is distant. I open my eyes with a jump. My heart is hammering in my chest, but everything’s quiet around me. I’m sitting in the grass by the river. Some birds are chirping while the daylight is fading, making the air of the mountain chiller.

You’re coming my way, shirtless, unaffected by the cold. A wide grin adorns your face as you're proudly holding some fishes dangling on a rope.

We’ve sparred all afternoon and you were hell-bent on having fish again for diner. I didn't have the mind to disagree and I guess I fell asleep when I was waiting for you to be done. Even though I haven’t dozed for long, my dream felt disturbingly real. It looked more like a mix of memories actually and I dislike having these specific memories worming their way to my mind. Especially right now, with you around.

“Look, I got some big ones,” you claim joyfully.

Your hair is damp and as you're walking closer, my eyes can’t help but follow the droplets dripping down on your chest and running down the curves of your bare muscles. I force my look away from you.

“Fine, let’s go home then,” I reply by getting up.

I rocket to the pale sky and you follow close behind. I hear you laugh as you dodge a pack of birds. Your figure overtakes me and I lock my eyes on you. You horse around, weaving up and down like a clown. You’re cheerful since I had the bean and it makes me realize how worried you were about me. You do care for me. I can’t help a small smile at the thought.

“Vegeta!” you call. “We have some visit!” you announce when my house comes in view.

Looking down, I can’t miss the eye-catching craft parked at the entrance of the wood. A state-of-the-art, expansive model.

Bulla.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. Thank you for all the nice support. I hadn't planned to wait so long to update this story but well, life etc...

Her slim figure turns to us just when we’re about to land. She’s wearing a long black coat enhancing her pale complexion and I have a pang when I meet her sparkling blue eyes.

She always does that to me. She looks so much like her mother. As a matter of fact, I think she’s even more beautiful than her mother was.

Over the years, the color of her hair is a bit less vivid and her features aren’t as finely shaped as they used to be, but she’s still breathtaking. I have to admit that I’m proud to be the father of such a creature.

However, I suppose everything comes with a price. As beautiful as Bulla is, she can be damn annoying as well.

She stuffs her hands in her pockets and watches us come her way, a smile upon her face. Actually, I understand at once that her grin is only aimed at you. “Hello, Goku, what’s up?” she asks with a warm voice.

You beam back, unaware of the troubles you’re facing. “Fine, glad to see you came to visit your father in the end. Last time we spoke –“

You interrupt yourself, suddenly realizing that you’re on the verge of saying something you’re not supposed to say - Something that is meant to stay between you and her – and damn, it bothers me to think that some things are meant to stay between you and her. It reminds me that you came to me for her sake in the first place and my mood darkens at your words.

The way you rub your head in embarrassment makes me want to punch you too, especially when you try quite pathetically to make up for your blunder with a totally unexpected topic.

“Huh, well, you’re right in time for a feast of fishes,” you resume.

She keeps smiling regardless of your irking clumsiness. I see her eyes drift down to the soaked fishes you’re carrying.

You totally miss the mark. Your offer is actually the best way to scare her off. She’s used to refined, sophisticated food and I’m pretty sure your fresh killing looks pretty disgusting to her. I can’t prevent a smirk in wait of one of her sarcastic, biting replies. I heard tons of them already and she can be good at it.

And yet, against all odds, she just pouts gently. “I would have loved to share such a promising diner with you Goku, but unfortunately, I don’t have time tonight.”

I frown at the unexpected sugar-coated response. There’s something amiss. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so forgiving with anyone, let alone with me. I’m pissed.

“I guess you guys eventually got beans from that magic cat up there, right?” she asks in a light tone.

You nod with a beam. “Yeah, Korin had some beans ready this morning, so I’ve fetched them. It was damn time. Your father badly needed them,” you explain cheerfully.

I wish you would shut up your big mouth. Your unusual chit-chat with Bulla is starting to get on my nerves and I grit my teeth, eyeing the front door of the house. I crave to run away.

My move doesn’t go unnoticed from Bulla and her eyes focus on me for the first time, as if she suddenly remembers that I am the one she’s here for. What I see in her orbs is exactly what I suspected. She can pretend to be laid back, her cold look at me says something else. “Dad is lucky to have you, Goku. Thank you. Would you leave us a minute? Family affair, you know,” she claims nonchalantly.

“Yes, sure. I’ll go fix dinner. Don’t hesitate to change your mind about eating with us, we have more than enough,” you answer as you step to the front door.

“I’ll think about it,” she answers.

We’re both tense as we watch you enter the house and close the door behind you. I should rather say, we’re both waiting to jump at each other’s throat.

I’m first though. “What’s your game with him?” I snap as soon as you’re out of sight.

She raises an eyebrow and her smile drops. “No kidding, Dad, I was about to ask the very same question.”

As usual, her berating words annoys me at once. I cross my arms in an attempt to channel my growing irritation. “Don’t try to turn the tables, Bulla. Just now, you were the one to smile and flutter eyelashes instead of telling him straightforward that you’d better die than eat the disgusting dead beast in his unwashed hands,” I growl.

She giggles at my words, making my anger flare a little more. Her laughing ends in a smirk. “Oh, no, Dad. Really. You saw me through. I plead guilty. I like Goku a lot. Do you mind? Or, are you jealous maybe? Do you think I have a crush on him?”

Each question is uttered in a playful tone, but I know better than to rely on appearances with her, and I wonder if I should consider their underlying meaning too.

Bulla is a man-eater. She’s always been. I never wanted to be involved in that part of her life, but I couldn’t totally ignore it either. We went through some trouble when she was younger. I did my best to stay out of these embarrassing businesses, but I can remember that her mother told me once that our daughter was as relentless as me. Gosh, I’m aware she is.

She looks me straight in the eyes in a defying manner and she gives me a wolfish grin. “Do you think I’ve slept with him?” she asks.

This time, the question is so offending that I can’t stand it. Before I know it, I raise my hand.

I only freeze my gesture when I hear her warning yelp. “Dad!”

My move stops dead, my palm still up, ready to slap her. I drop my arm with a cold sweat. I never touched her. Never. Never harmed her. She has pushed me over the edge more often than not, but I never made the slightest move hinting that could hit her.

My heart is racing alarmingly. I’m scared at my own gesture. I can’t explain why I reacted that way.

See, what you do to me? You’re turning me back into a beast, unleashing my most despicable instincts, and I’m starting to lose control again.

I can read the shock and the sadness in Bulla’s sorry eyes and for an instant, she’s my little girl again.

She steps to me and she gently cups my face, whispering in a shaky voice. “Just kidding, Dad. I was just teasing you, I’d never –“

She interrupts herself and hugs me tight with a sigh. “Holy shit, Dad. What am I going to do with you? You freak me out, you know.”

I bring myself to pat her shoulder for comfort. “I know. There was no need to send Kakarott to check on me though. I’m fine,” I grumble.

She takes a step back and she looks up at me with a puzzled frown. “Send you Goku? I never did such a thing,” she objects.

She certainly senses that I don’t believe her and she sighs in resignation. “Okay, Dad. I don’t want to argue with you, but we really need to talk. Why don’t you sit for a moment with me?”

In normal times, I elude any talk with her. There's nothing to expect from our conversations. She’s pushy, I’m stubborn and we hardly agree on anything. What good could come out of our discussions? Each time we try to “speak seriously” as she says, I end up utterly annoyed while she ends up utterly frustrated and any of us change their mind anyway. Rather unpleasant and pointless, if you ask me.

However, right now, I’m still upset and guilty at the fact that I’ve been on the verge of hitting her and I can’t refuse her offer.

I follow her meekly to the stone bench a few steps away. For some stupid reason, I think of the day Trunks and Goten built up this bench for me. They made it to laugh at me, claiming it would be a great place to meditate while growing a beard. Dumbasses.

She grabs one of my hand and I focus back on her. “Trunks told me you went mad and you attacked Goku so fiercely, he almost killed you in return.”

Damn. I don't recognize any of my kids tonight. I didn't expect Trunks to rattle on me. He usually knows better than confessing anything to his sister about me.

Bulla carries on as if she had just read my mind. “He was concerned about you. He wasn’t sure leaving you here with Goku had been a smart move. He was afraid that your injuries turned out to be worse than they seemed, at first sight, so he came to me.”

My son has definitely become a chickenshit. I prevent myself from rolling my eyes and I just nod patiently. “See? I’m fine again. No big deal,” I claim, getting up to end the conversation.

She pulls me back down on the bench though. “That’s not the point. Or at least, that’s not the whole point.”

I repress a grunt of irritation, waiting for further explanation, but she keeps still for a while. She shivers at the freshness of the falling night, but she wouldn’t cut the talk. She eventually sighs. “Dad, don’t you see? How old are you? Something around a hundred years, I guess. That’s something of a long life, not to mention you have no clue how much more time you still have ahead.”

That’s for sure. I still don’t understand where this conversation is leading us.

“Such a long life is a challenge for any mind, you know,” she states.

I cringe. Now, I’m annoyed. Her favorite topic’s back. “Here you are again?” I growl in deep exasperation. “I’m not getting crazy! Stop your bullshit! I just enjoy loneliness. I know you can’t understand that but –“

“Yet!” she cuts me off. She almost yelled the word. She’s getting frantic as she keeps speaking. “You’re not getting crazy, yet. You’re getting wild, craziness’s the next step. Look at you, you lashed at Goku and you almost slapped me! How do you call that? And don’t try to fool me with your liking for loneliness! You might be a loner, but what you do here is just hiding from the world. The fewer people you meet, the fewer people you’ll see pass away and the fewer people you’ll miss when they’re gone! That’s the point.”

I grit my teeth at her nonsense. She doesn’t get a thing and she always has to make everything so dramatic. Very human.

There’s nothing wild in me. I get along pretty well with Trunks and I can even cope with some of the villagers down the valley.

It’s just you. You are driving me crazy. Considering she was the reason why you’ve shown up in the first place, her statement is a biting irony, don’t you think?

I lower my head, rubbing slowly the bridge of my nose to keep my composure. “And so, you saw fit to send Kakarott to my place, huh? You were hoping that he would be able to convince me to go out and accept some company?”

She’s startled by my words. She places a gentle hand on my cheeks and she forces my head up to face her. She looks oddly desperate. “Dad, you don’t see anything, do you? Let me tell you something,” she says in a hushed voice.

Unease oddly twists my guts at her confidential tone.

She looks away for a brief instant and she licks her lips as if bracing herself for the rest of her speech. “Goku has been back on Earth for one year before he came to see you, did he tell you?”

I frown. One year? And you didn’t even visit me? What an asshole. I should have checked out for your ki.

“I guess, he didn’t,” she murmurs.

I can feel, she’s hesitant about what she wants to say. It’s the perfect opportunity for me to run away. Just get up and go back to the house. My move might be enough to break her will to word whatever it is she’s trying to word.

I don’t do it though. She’s about to tell me something about you and I have to admit that it makes me curious for once.

She eventually resumes. “He came back when Videl passed away. He certainly wanted to be by Gohan and Pan’s side and I somehow got to know him then. We’ve never been very close before – you know, with the gap of generation and the fact that we hardly have anything in common – but we had opportunities to spend some time together supporting Gohan and Pan and I have to say Goku’s personality is quite unique. It’s hard not to like him.”

She has a little smile as she’s speaking of you and I have conflicted feeling about the obvious tenderness she has for you. As I said, it’s not commonplace coming from her and it’s disturbing in a way. Deep down, I can’t help but wonder what you feel for her. As if it mattered at all.

She looks at me and her smile is gone. “He wanted to come and see you, but he seemed fearful at the idea. I found it rather strange, nothing near his usual self. It took him months before he eventually found the courage to visit you.”

I repress a sigh of annoyance. You’re definitely a complete dork. And why did you need to get close to my daughter and tell her about us? She got nothing to do with our business and the last thing I need is having her nosing around and asking questions. It’s a wonder she didn’t bring you to confess everything.

“Your concern was all the courage he needed, is that it? What a clown!” I spit.

She bites her lips in unease. “Dad, you don’t get it. I never asked him to come. Had I done such a thing, he would have come earlier. He was afraid to come because he’s … well, damn, he’s obviously in love with you.”

The statement caught me totally off guard and I’m speechless for an instant. However, very quickly, I feel an uncontrollable laugh creeping his way up my throat and before I know it, I hear myself snicker. Love? Her choice of words couldn't be worst. Bulla is smart but still very human. Her mistake is very funny actually. “Gosh, Bulla. So, in short, you think that I’m getting crazing while Goku is in love with me. Do you still have more bullshits in your bag?”

She’s piqued at my reaction – She has a little pissed frown and she draws back her lips in a way I know too much - but still, I keep chuckling.

“Dad, you’re an oaf. I start to think that there’s no way to help you. Swear me at least that you won’t harm him. This guy’s amazingly clueless.”

I finally calm myself at her offended expression. She’s wrong, I know, but she means to do the right thing. She’s willing to protect me. She’s even willing to protect you. She can be a bitch sometimes but when she finally comes to care for someone, she’s the most dedicated ally. If I have to be honest, I’d say she inherited this trait from me, even though I never had many allies to dedicate myself to.

I turn to her and I do my best to take a serious voice when I answer. “Stop worrying for us, Bulla, we’re strong. And stop overthinking things, you’re getting a bit old for that, don’t you think?”

Anger sets her orbs ablaze and she grits her teeth. “Thinking you hardly understand it when someone just tries to be nice with you, I wouldn’t rely on your judgment when you meet a person who’s literally in love with you, but whatever. Just… Be nice to him. Don’t forget he might be the last one by your side one day,” she mumbles in contained fury.

Her last words freeze my guts. They’re the only truth she uttered tonight. You might be my last friend alive when they’re all gone. Still, it’s not love you feel for me. It can’t be. It’s just that fucking yearning and if we ever came to give in to that twisted thing, it would change us forever. That thought oppresses me so much that I can’t let it happen. I think it’s time for you to leave.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. Thanks a lot for the support. It helps. As a matter of fact, this story started as a tiny egg but I'm afraid a monster is hatching out of it. I'll try to keep it short anyway - even if shortness has never been my forte.

I look at you wordlessly. You speak for two. Chatting about Bulla, about our sparring session, about everything but the reason why you’re here.

You’re in love with me, she said. A nice way to put up things.

I remember your face when you leaned over me to give me the bean. You craved to touch me. I wasn’t sure then, but Bulla’s theory made it clear. She’s smart and she saw through you, even though she mistook your feeling for love.

Now, every gesture you make, every word you say, every look you give tells me about your inner fight to control your strong attraction for me. I know the helplessness too well and it gives me a sensation of impending danger.

I’ve never been wise enough to run away from danger though, and the more I watch you, the more I find it hard to tell you to leave.

Since I indulged in jerking off thinking of you, my brain sends me regular flashbacks of my perverted life under Freeza. My dreams and my thoughts are tainted with some distorted memories of that time and I guess it’s a way for my wit to remind me how it will end if I keep you by my side.

Meanwhile, my yearning grows further and the conflict is killing me.

Your voice eventually interrupts my musings. “Would you mind if we shared the bed again? I mean, it’s wide enough for at least four people anyway and your couch is awful.”

I was just drying a glass and I freeze my gesture, tightening my fingers on the rag as I cringe. I stare at you in disbelief. You look as clueless as usual and yet, as I probe your eyes, I feel a shadow flickering in your orbs. Are you really asking this innocently?

You glance at me in hesitation, uncertain of what my silence means.

“Vegeta?”

All of a sudden, the glass I’m holding blows up.

I gaze down in astonishment at the shattered pieces and I understand that I smashed the glass unwillingly. I curse under my breath as blood starts dripping along my palm but all I can do is stand numbly, unable to gather my thoughts to do anything useful while a crimson pool is forming at my feet.

After a while, you seize gently my wrist with a sigh.

I’m mesmerized by your slow motions as you cautiously take the rest of the glass out of my grip, pulling me away from the mess to the other end of the kitchen and I just obey meekly. 

You grab my bleeding hand and just like that, you start to pick the shards out of my skin.

We don’t speak. I stay still, staring at your every move while the delicate way you handle me sends a delightful prickling throughout my body.

When you’re done, you wrap a clean towel around my wounded palm and you eventually look up at me.

What I see in your eyes takes my breath away. The faint shadow I saw before has turned into a dark flame and it’s burning in a vivid, dangerous way, screaming at me to run away.

But I can’t.

And neither can you.

You run your thumb over my lips. I manage to break the touch by backing my head away, but you don’t seem fazed by my reaction. You stare questioningly at me. “Do you feel like kissing me again?” you murmur.

I feel the blush creeping up to my cheeks and it’s utterly annoying. I look away, hoping it will be enough to deter you from doing whatever you’re about to do.

I should just yell at you like I usually do, but for some reason, I don’t find the words. I’m not even sure my voice still works.

Maybe that’s why you carry on.

Your thumb catches up with my chin and you force my focus back on you. “Cause, you know, I feel like kissing you now,” you say in a hushed voice.

And so, you do. Taking a step closer to me, you press your lips on mine. Your move is not shy, but it’s not hurried either, as if you wanted to savor every bit of it.

I fight to keep my eyes open. I pray that it will at least help me to keep control by not responding since I’m unable to prevent you from having your way.

Our bodies brush and your hand shifts from my jaw to my temple, taking ahold of my head and pulling me toward you. Your other hand worms its way past my neck and through my hair to ensure a better grip and I sense your lips parting. Then, your tongue enters my mouth lazily, exploring thoroughly that new territory.

Up from that point, the whole thing becomes too overwhelming and I snap.

My own tongue is joining the game, my lips are looking for yours. My heart hammers in my chest at the warm wetness of your saliva on my skin. Your tongue is incredibly soft, even though its movements turn somehow forceful.

I could get drown in the intense feelings washing over me at that moment and it's a miracle that I’m not embracing you wildly. It’s a rough struggle inside me though and the only reason why I keep the upper hand is because you end up breaking the kiss.

When you open your eyes, I find out that the burning shadow took over you. A small smile is dancing on your wet lips. “I want more,” you whisper.

I realize it’s no longer you speaking. I mean… You’re not yourself anymore. Your smile has turned into a smirk and that glow in your eyes… It reminds me brusquely that I can’t let it happen.

I shove you off of me. My unexpected feedback catches you off guard and you stumble backward with a yelp, bumping the table in the process.

I jump past you to the living room, literally fleeing, but you clench the back of my shirt on the way. I hear the noise of the fabric getting torn when I snatch myself away. “Kakarott!” I bark threateningly, whirling around to face you.

Of course, you’re not daunted the least and you quickly catch my wrist. Regardless of my fresh bandage, your hold is unexpectedly tight as you yank me back to you. Leaving me no time to withstand your move, you slam me back to the wall so harshly that some dust of plaster falls from the ceiling.

You press your free forearm across my chest to keep me in place and you glare at me. I never saw that glare in your eyes except when you were really pissed in fights.

“Stop running from me,” you hiss.

You’re angry and demanding. Once again, what I see is no longer your usual self and it makes me aware that everything is happening exactly the way I feared it would.

“You don’t know what you’re bargaining for,” I growl.

I do my best to sound self-confident but the truth is that I have no more energy to stand up the instincts raging in my guts. It took me all I had to fight them so far, but now that you decided to be on their side, I know I don’t stand a chance. If you fall now, I’ll do too.

You squint and I have to admit that I break a cold sweat at the sight. “Oh yes, I think I do,” you claim.

With that, you kiss me again. You do it so eagerly that you bump my head against the wall. I know I should push you back again. I should shout at you, tell you to leave my house, tell you that I don’t want to see you anymore…

Whatever it is I should do, I don’t.

I answer your kiss with hunger and you loosen your grip on my wrist, as to embrace me fully. For an instant, the whole world disappears. I feel you everywhere. Your hands are roaming my back, my ribs, my chest, tearing apart the rest of my T-shirt that gets in the way, driving my senses crazy while our tongues are battling forcefully.

Then you break the kiss, leaving me breathless with your lips trailing down my neck, exploring my throat impatiently. I toss my head against the wall and I close my eyes in defeat as my mind savors that madness.

You’re getting insane. You’ve never known the wildness before and I guess you’re overwhelmed by your growing lust. You can't take it anymore. 

You pull me away from the wall and you drag me to the bedroom. I can hardly follow you, stumbling, and struggling with your harsh grip. You’re turning feral and restless and you seek control, I know. The realization rekindles the pathetic remnants of my will power.

No. Way.

I slap your chest and I pry myself out of your hold. In normal times, it should be enough to make you stop and give me an apologetic look, but at that point, normal times are gone.

You’re trembling out of impatience as you glare at me. “What now?” you grunt.

“You don’t think I’m gonna be your slut, do you?” I spit.

“My what?” you ask in annoyance.

My frown deepens at your questioning tone. Did you really mean to ask that? Hell, it seems some things don’t ever change, no matter the situation.

Before I can dwell on the question, your hands grab my shoulders and shoved me on the bed so violently that the wooden frame crumbles down. I gasp at the shock, but I have no time to collect my thoughts as you jump on me.

In the blink of an eye, you press your knees against my hips, slamming your palms on each side of my head. I find myself caged underneath you with your face hovering just above mine. You’re smirking in a conquering manner. “I don’t think anything. You, on the other hand, think too much,” you say.

You crush your lips on mine again, throwing me back into a whirlwind of exhilarating sensations and my pride and wits die out. I’m still trying to get rid of you, but I’m kissing you back too. Actually, I’m not sure whether I'm pushing you away or drawing you closer.

I hardly notice my waistband getting loose. My body is on fire and I arch at your touch on my groin.

When the fuck did you turn so bold? Not that I complain, to be fair. Your hold on me feels great and I hear myself grunt both in surprise and pleasure.

Only then, do I realize that it’s not only your palm rubbing against my hardness. You undid your pants too and now you’re stroking the both of us.

I can't help but wrap my arms around your neck and I nestle my forehead in the crook of your collarbone. I’m panting, stammering senseless sounds instead of the firm “no” I'm supposed to utter.

It's too late anyway. I can't stop myself, let alone you.

You’re moaning shamelessly and I can’t take it anymore. My valid hand joins yours to help to pleasure us in sync.

You’re heavy on me, imprisoning me under your weight and I try to shift you aside to get some more space. You don’t let me, though. You’re lying on me, pinning me down even harder as if I was about to run away.

It’d be the last thing I’d do of course, but I know you're driven by an insane craving for possession. It's a whole new feeling for you and it's so powerful that you lost your mind. You just can't get enough.

Your free hand has been feverishly roaming my body, but now you’re scratching me, scorching my skin wildly as if you’re searching to rip my soul out of me.

I don’t feel the pain. The pleasure is too strong.

I hear your hectic breath echoing in my ear. “I… I…”

I don’t even process your words. Whatever it is you want to say is interrupted by a muffled whimper anyway as a warm liquid drips down my hand. You stiffen at the orgasm and you’re shaking like on the verge of crying.

Ecstasy takes over me and I release myself short behind with a gasp of relief. My thoughts are drowned in the overwhelming sensation and I tighten my grip on you, seeking your burning body for support.

The numbness is slow to dissipate and for a long moment, the only thing I am aware of is the pace of your breathing and your warmth against me.

My arm is still locked around your neck, blood dripping down from my bandage, and you hug me back. Then, I sense your touch on my temple. You caress my hair and you kiss my lips, in a gentle manner this time.

This simple move is enough to drag me back to reality.

The bed is wobbly, leaning on one side, and I can smell our semen spread on my skin. The only light on is in the living room and with the fire out, we're lying in a freezing twilight.

Your weight is choking me and I push you away. You eventually roll aside to leave me some air and I bring myself to look at you. You stare back at me with a satisfied grin.

My anger is back. I feel like slapping your silly face. What the hell do you think we just did? The fuck, do you even know what we just did?

Of course, you don’t. I realize it the second I meet your innocent eyes and my wrath melts down into confused guilt.

I sigh.

It’s all my fault. I should have been more honest with you. I should have talked to you. Warn you, tell you all the craps behind the glee. I was too proud and overconfident as usual. I thought I could handle all this by myself, that you would be smart enough to guess the danger, that you wouldn’t cave in blindly.

I’m not that strong though and I forgot that you were way too human to see the danger. Maybe, you’re even mistaking your wanting for love, just like Bulla. Thinking of it, I wonder if you even know how to fuck a guy.

I shiver at your slight touch as your running the tip of your finger along the scratches you left on my skin. “I’m sorry for that,” you murmur sheepishly, “I got… huh… carried away.”

Carried away? That’s precious. I can’t help but huff. “Kakarott have ever fucked a guy? I mean for real?”

Your eyebrows lift in confusion. “Isn’t it… What we’ve just done?”

You’re lost, I can see it, but still, I can’t believe it. Do you really think that we… Damn, you’re so dense. I hesitate between laughing or crying. I just stay silent, however.

“Have you already done such a thing with a guy? How does it…” you stammer with a thoughtful frown.

I rub my palms on my eyelids. I’m so tired of that. It’s a curse to be bound that way to someone like you. At least, your innocence might have saved us tonight.

“Don’t think too hard Kakarott,” I eventually answer.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. This chapter was somehow hard to write for me. I hope that it will be easy to read nevertheless.

Taking time to mull over a situation is a luxury I hardly ever afforded in my life, but I realize that I hate it anyway.

Hesitating, considering, doubting, guessing, and so on. With a headache and no answer, in the end, a great waste of time if you ask me.

Damn you. All this is your fault.

I like you, you know. Don’t get me wrong, you're gifted to get on my nerves and you're brainless most of the time, it’s just that my life would be somehow tasteless without you.

Gosh, how cheesy is that? Forget it.

The point is I don't want you to change and I don't wish you ill either.

Now, I must face the fact that the only way to act accordingly is to stop what we've mindlessly begun.

Easier said than done though. I’m aware that you won't agree with that. You'll do your best to get in my way. You'll even hate me maybe, but it has to be done nevertheless. If anything, I remember how relentless you’ve turned and I’ve seen the shadow dancing in your eyes. I know too well that this darkness will eventually eat you away if we were to go further.

That’s why we won’t keep going on.

A loud knock on the door greets my inner decision.

“Vegeta? Can I come in?”

Your low voice sounds pleading and worried, reminding me of the dreadful task awaiting me. I’m about to crush your joyful, clueless self. You’ll get over it, I guess.

“Come in? What for? Kakarott, did you notice I'm in the bathroom?” I snap.

“You've been there for hours. I came to check on you,” you complain.

Before I can retort anything, the door cracks open and you poke your head inside. The fuck, is there any way to escape you when your mind is set on something?

I glare at you, but it's pointless.

You don’t miss that I’m done showering since I’m fully dressed, sitting idly on the lid of the toilet with my knees bend under my chin and you look puzzled at the sight. As a matter of fact, I needed some peace to muse and the place appeared to be the only oasis of calm in the house, away from you and your silly interruptions.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

Damn, how can you ask this so innocently when I just washed our mixed cum coating my skin? I brusquely jump to my feet and I exit my hideout with an annoyed grunt, shoving you out of my way.

“Why are you mad?” you exclaimed.

You sound offended and I know you think that I'm unfair, that I'm lashing at you because, as usual, I'm in a bad mood for no reason. Yet, my feelings are nothing near usual. Even though I know exactly what I have to do, I'm torn deep down and your oblivious attitude isn't helping, believe me.

I take a deep breath and I turn to you. I look you straight in the eyes and I realize it's a mistake when my words get stuck in my throat. You’ve put on a black shirt and you look incredibly attractive in that outfit.

The worst thing is when you smile at me.

“Vegeta, huh… I'm not good at saying things, but…I like it here. With you, I mean,” you claim in a soft voice.

No. Shut up.

You step closer to me until you stand right in front of me. Your blurry eyes don't let go of me. You tilt your head and your smile widens gently as your fingers brush hesitantly my cheek. You’re whispering now “And what we did… You told me it wasn't real sex, but still-"

“Don't,” I cut off coldly, slapping your hand away.

I'm bad at saying things too.

You tense and I feel it, already lurking. Your pain.

I do my best to ignore your sheepish look. “Kakarott. What we did will never happen again. Hear me?” I scold.

Your face breaks into a mask of disappointment. “Why? Why not? You enjoyed it too, where's the harm?”

I cross my arms with a frown, hoping that my confident attitude will be enough to convince you. “It was a mistake all the same and now the best thing to do is just to forget the whole crap.”

The shadow is creeping back into your orbs. It's amazingly clear. I see it igniting and growing dangerously. The sight is frightful but I hide my wariness.

Instead of accepting my judgment as you would in normal times, you scowl. “That's bullshit, Vegeta. You just make up an excuse because you're scared,” you utter in a low, calm growl.

I squint in annoyance. “Scared?“ I huff indignantly.

You rest your hands on my shoulders, your thumbs sinking forcefully into the crook of my collarbones. Your grip is tight and kind of disturbing. 

“Hands off, Kakarott,” I mumble threateningly.

You don't care though. You lean closer to me and you murmur in my ear. “Yes, you are _scared_. What does scare you that much, tell me, you Prince of all Saiyans?”

I shiver faintly at your ironic tone. “Stop it,” I order. But my voice is hardly louder than a breath.

You chuckle. Your mouth is still brushing my ear. “There’s nothing to fear, Vegeta. You know you can trust me. I'll keep you safe. I'll never hurt you.” With that, you run your tongue around my ear and down my neck.

I cringe at the unexpected sensation. “Kakarott, goddamnit,” I gasp as I start struggling your grasp.

You don't listen though. You force me to step backward to the sofa and it only takes a slight push to have me stumbling down on the cushions. You follow me in my fall, ignoring my disapproving yelp.

I feel oddly numb and I battle clumsily to get away from you as you crawl over me. I get short of breath with the adrenaline rushing through my veins and all I can say is your name again and again.

While one of your hand is still holding my shoulder, the other trails down my chest and abs. I try to kick you away but you catch my leg in flight, just under the knee, and you pull it upward as to rest my ankle on your shoulder.

The brusque move sends me flat on my back and my blood runs cold in realization. “What the hell, Kakarott?” I pant.

You watch me from above. Your face is flushed in excitation and you bite your lips. “I want to do it for real, this time. After that, you'll see that it's all right for us to-"

I slap you with all my strength. “Fuck you!” I roar.

The smack is so harsh that your head is flung aside and you let go of me. You didn’t expect such reaction and I take advantage of your shock to disentangle myself from you.

Yet, just like I feared, the feedback isn't long to come. I hardly have time to take my leg down your shoulder before you snap one of my wrists and slam me down back to the couch. You lean over me, pinning my imprisoned arm above my head and placing your free hand on my throat.

When I feel your feverish fingers coiling around my neck, I meet your dark eyes with some disbelief. The skin of your cheek is still crimson from my blow and you look at me with an upset pout. “You never listen, do you? Just give it a try, damnit!” you mumble in obvious annoyance.

As you’re speaking, you tighten your grip on my throat. What’s weird is that you don’t seem to realize what you’re doing. I swiftly catch your wrist to prevent you from going further. “Kakarott,” I hiss warningly.

You ignore my protest. All you want is my agreement. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” You carry on.

“Let go of me,” I utter in a hoarse voice.

You don’t hear me anymore though. You keep compressing my windpipe and I start suffocating while you plead further. “I promise it’d be nice.”

Damn. Wake up, you bastard. You’re choking me. I kick you away but you know better than to leave me any opportunity to hurt you. I gasp for air, my free hand desperately clutching your wrist in hope of making you loosen the vice around my throat.

I can’t even catch your attention with words by now. Whenever I speak, I only stutter meaningless syllables.

Your lean closer to my face and your lips wander along my cheeks and my jaw. I can feel your hot breath against my skin as you keep strangling me mindlessly. “I promise,” you murmur.

Black spots are floating in my field of vision and I know I have to act. You’re out of your mind. The only thing you want is to fuck me, no matter what it takes, no matter what I say. I’m on myself there, with only a last option left.

I gather all my stamina and I suddenly turn super. The whoosh forces you to back away brutally and you let go of me at last. As soon as I feel free, I roll aside, falling down from the couch on my hands and knees.

I cough furiously, unable to get enough air to feed my hungry lungs.

Powering up has been a mistake, I know, but I had no choice at that point. I dread what comes next and I’m proved right when I sense your ki rocketing behind me.

It only takes a glimpse over my shoulder to see you in all your super glory. And you’re smirking.

I struggle to my feet, hoping to get as far from you as possible, but I just trip pathetically and before I know it, you jump skillfully next to me. Grabbing the back of my collar, you crush my face down to the ground. I blurt a muffled yelp at the shock.

My neck is in agony and I think the arch of my eyebrow blew up too.

I try to prop myself up on my hand, but you prevent me from having my way again. You press your weight on top of me and you twist one of my arms in my back.

I’m stuck and breathless, watching for whatever you intend to do next.

“Vegeta, stop fooling around. It’s difficult to get your attention sometimes,” you state.

I hear the amusement in your voice. You’re having fun, don’t you? The challenge excites you to no end and it’s somewhat scary. What scares me the most is how familiar the situation feels to me. That’s bad. I know we’re in a fight now. Nothing near the typical, ruled fight, though. It’s a much more wicked, perverted battle, and I have no longer any choice but to play the game and pray that I’ll be able to keep control.

I gather energy in the palm of my blocked hand and I release it straight on you. You dodge it of course. You hop on your feet and instead of you, the blast meets the wall between the living room and the bedroom. I hear it crumbling down while smoke and dust cloud the room.

I’m free of you though.

I manage to jump to my feet and I sprint to the door of the house. I hope we could at least fight in the open, but it’s a lost cause. You materialize just in front of me and your fist sink into my stomach.

I double over as all the air is knocked out of my lungs. You’re not holding back, you fucking bastard.

“I told you not to run from me,” you growl.

As a reply, I land a punch at your jaw. You avoid the contact with a backlash but I immediately unleash another blast of energy at you with my other hand.

You take it straight in the face and you’re sent flying away outside through the wall of the house. As a result, a rain of plaster and dust forms a slight mist shielding my view.

I can’t see you anymore and I wait warily, scanning your every move. Your ki is down again and I wonder if you eventually collected your wits.

Everything’s quiet and I’m suddenly startled by the rumble of the ceiling collapsing pieces by pieces.

I take a few steps back as to avoid the big rubbles tumbling down and that’s when you appear just before me. Before I even realize that you just instant transmitted yourself, your uppercut hit my chin at full force.

My feet leave the floor as I’m thrown backward. My back crashes a piece of wall, before I fall down headfirst in the wreckages. I want to stand up, but I can hardly move. I feel dizzy. A slight buzz echoes in my skull and I'm unable to silence it.

Then, you’re on me. You say something. I don’t hear though. I don’t understand the words. I only see your face and I can say you’re angry. So angry. You hold my shoulders and you shake me relentlessly as to get my attention, yet my body is nothing more than a spineless puppet in your furious grip and my mind is dangerously drifting away.

I’d like to speak, to drag you back to reality, but my vision is blurry and my brain can’t even sort out the words.

My skull is smacked down on the concrete beneath me. Once. Twice. Three times… Four….?

Where are you? Where am I?

…


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Thanks a lot for the incredible feedback. Enjoy.

Outside the window, the snow is slowly falling, wrapping the sleeping city in a white coat. The sight reminds me of that night when I woke up among the ruins of my wrecked house. The first thing I saw above me then was an infinite dark sky and the snow, a whirlwind of white spots so tiny that they were melting down in the night. Everything was still around me, and you were gone.

I don’t know how much time I lied there, cold, alone, with crushed ribs and blood in my mouth, but the first movement I did was to check my clothes. They were soaked and half-frozen, but most of all, they were untouched. You didn’t totally give in to the madness in the end.

You’ll never know how relieved I felt as I came to this conclusion and yet, the relief wasn't up to the sadness because I was sorely aware that everything was wasted nevertheless. My house as much as us.

Despite my reluctance, I decided to go to Trunks. The winter in the Mountain is something relentless without a roof and I have to admit that you didn’t leave me in great condition.

By sunrise, I was standing at the front door of my son’s neat two-stores house in the hills of West City, and since he wasn’t at home, I forced my way in and I crashed down on his spotless couch.

He found me there, battered, bloody, and mute, but, as usual, he didn’t ask anything. Nor about my house, nor about my injuries, nor about my brooding mood. He just offered to get a bean for me and I declined in fear of having him looking for you.

It’s been a week now and I’m still wondering how things spiraled out of hand the way they did.

My wounds are slowly healing but my mind is still totally fazed. As for you, I can’t spot your aura anywhere, so I guess you left Earth again to some faraway place. You’re better than me at running away.

We’re definitely a complete mess.

Once again, I realize that my life would have been much easier if you had let Krilin kill me the first time we met. That was what was supposed to happen. I was meant to die fighting opponents stronger than me and you were meant to eradicate any threat to your Planet. It had been the logical end of our encounter and for some reason, you screwed it up, causing our fates to branch off to another path.

I never understood why you decided to save my life that day but it doesn't matter any longer. What matters is that, as a result, we’re now bound to that creepy, disturbing relationship and our outstanding longevity won’t allow us to get free of it anytime soon.

Fuck you.

I look away from the mesmerizing snowfall with a weary sigh and my eyes meet the picture of Trunks’ kids. They're a consequence of your foolishness too. 

I grab the frame to give the photo a closer look. The kids were young when it had been snapped. Berry, the girl, has been maybe ten and her brother, fifteen or so.

I haven’t seen them in a while. I think the last time was at Bulma’s funeral.

Their mother left with them a long time ago. Trunks cheated on her and she figured out. Did you know that? Heck, even years later, thinking of this crap makes me sick. It has been the one and only time Trunks shamed me.

It wasn’t about the cheating. As you know I’ve never cared much for righteousness and I can bear with betrayal as long as it’s a true decision. Trunks didn’t make any decision there though. He just lost any control over his dick and he hasn’t even been able to hide his weakness properly.

He was infatuated with his wife, and yet he couldn’t help but risk everything on a pathetic a booty call. The whole matter sounds so petty, so – you know, trite. The exact opposite of the way I see my son.

Whatever. The wife found out and as far as I know, she took it pretty badly. I don’t blame her.

I don’t know a lot about what happened after she left because Bulma got sick at the same time, but I rarely saw the kids again.

As I look at the picture, I remember how cool they were though. The boy was named after me. Vegeta. A brawler with an awful temper. I had the secret hope that I could train him at some point, but, as you know, human females always get in the way on that matter.

The girl was more like Bulma’s mother. A nice blonde-haired little doll. Too soft for her own sake, but a ray of sunshine nevertheless. I think she married a rich, Earthling dork.

Strange that I haven’t thought of them in years and yet, I realize I miss them.

“See what I found,” Trunks’ voice claims behind my back.

I put the picture down and turn to him.

He just entered the room with a wide tray supporting a row of bottles. He got all sorts of alcohol there. Fine branded as much as I see. He rests the tray on the coffee table next to the fireplace.

“Let me fix you something special,” he carries on in a cheerful, excited tone as he takes place on a cozy armchair.

I know his joy is a little overdone. He’s mostly trying to drag me out of my bleak mood. We haven’t spent much time together since I set up at his pace. He’s often out, taking care of whatever business he still has on and when he’s home, we barely speak.

He’s used to my silent nature, but I guess he senses that this time is different. I’m not just pissed, there’s more to it and even though he has no clue about what happened, he’s worried.

I step to the table and watch him prepare me a cocktail in a classy crystal glass.

I haven’t drunk alcohol for a long time. Well, back in the Mountain, I had a sort of rotgut but it was quite awful so I mainly used it to heat up when the winter turned too harsh.

He hands the glass to me with a grin and I taste it. It’s good.

“You like it?” Trunks asks expectantly.

I nod and I knock down the rest of the drink. He takes back the glass and busies himself on another mixture.

I sit in the second armchair next to him, studying his doing with the bottles. “Do you have news of the kids?” I ask.

He freezes and looks up at me in bewilderment. My question takes him aback and he’s not sure whether my unexpected concern is a good or a bad sign. He rests the glass clumsily.

“Well, huh, Berry and I see each other once in a while, but with her husband being oblivious of Saiyans and me looking younger as her now, it’s sort of complicated. She’s doing well though. Kids growing up and all,” he stammers awkwardly.

He pauses. He looks weary. He clasps his hands nervously before resuming. “As for Vegeta, he’s been running the Capsule since Bulla had to leave the stage because of her age unmatching her look. She says he’s doing a good job and she keeps giving him some advice. They’re pretty close. Oh, and he got a boy too. A toddler. No one knows where the kid comes from. There’s no mother around and he raises him alone, but Bulla claims he is indeed Vegeta’s biological son.”

I hear the bitterness in Trunks’ voice, especially when he mentions Bulla’s closeness with his son. The boy stopped talking to him after the divorce and he’s apparently a stubborn prick since he still hasn’t changed his mind years later. Even though Trunks completely screwed up with his wife, I don’t think he deserves such treatment.

“Maybe, I should go visit them,” I suggest.

Trunks frown in disbelief. “Visit them?” he exclaims in unease.

“Why not? They’re my grandchildren, aren’t they?”

Trunks runs a nervous hand through his locks. “Yeah, grandchildren. Dad… I don’t know how to tell you that, but… we told them you were dead.”

I jump at the words. “You… what? Are you out of your mind? Why the hell did you…”

“They had been asking after you and you were always away, either wandering some godly planets or living as a hermit in some unfindable shit hole. Besides, you never seem to really care for them, never asked about them, never worried about anything, so Bulla and I thought that it was better to just cut the crap once and for all.”

I stay quiet at that. He’s both mad at me and embarrassed at what he did. The truth is I had such a hard time finding my place as a father that I wasn’t ready to start it all over again as a grandfather. I mostly relied on Bulma to be the link between me and these kids and after she was gone, I admit that I left the business unfinished.

Still, what Trunks and Bulla did was a low blow.

Dead? No Kidding.

I grab the glass on the table, I add some vodka in it and I take a fair swallow.

“Dad, I’m sorry. You’ve withdrawn into yourself for so long, I couldn’t tell the children you didn’t give a damn about them,” Trunks sighs.

“Says the man who’s so good at taking care of his kids that he lost them on a hot pussy,” I retort.

I’m mean. I know I am, but it feels so damn good. Dead? Seriously, that hurts. And I’m the type to retaliate.

Trunks scowls, his eyes wide in shock. He didn’t expect that old story to come out so brusquely and I’m somewhat glad to lecture him in turn. “Gosh, Dad. Bulla’s right. You’re completely out of it,” he says in a low, annoyed voice as he grabs a bottle and pours a glass for himself.

I shrug. “Don’t try to make the tale more interesting than it is. You couldn’t resist a good fuck, your wife left and your son hates you. As simple and pathetic as that,” I huff.

He keeps staring at me in disbelief, his fingers clenching his glass. We never spoke about what he did back then. As I said Bulma was sick and I had other concerns than my son’s nonsense, but I’m somewhat relieved to be able to give him my opinion now.

He eventually sighs and swallows his drink in one go. Wiping his mouth, he locks his eyes back on me. “Fuck. After all these years, you never figured out. You’re actually worse than Goku,” he murmurs.

I shift in my chair, irritated and disturbed at the comparison. “What does that clown have to do with it, anyway?”

Trunks fights a smile. He bits his lips in an obvious attempt to keep his composure, but eventually, he likes it better to look down to refill his glass. “Dad, it wasn’t exactly about a hot pussy as you say in your own poetical way,” he utters in a low, confidential voice.

I frown at the news. Maybe the whole matter wasn’t as shameful as I thought, after all. “Wasn’t it? Didn’t you cheat on her?”

He sighs and tosses back into the chair. He looks at me thoughtfully as if debating about the best way to explain things to me. “Yes, I did. No hot pussy there, though. She caught me with Goten though.”

What. The. Fuck?

I’m overwhelmed by a mix of confused feelings, but anger overcomes them all and as often, it’s all for you, bastard.

Our own sons? Really? Did you know? Did you fucking know all these years? And you didn’t tell me anything? We spent hours, even days, training, eating, sleeping side by side and you never, ever, mentioned it. You’re so brainless! I’m pretty sure you forgot at some point. You just… considered that it wasn’t a great deal to have our sons fucking each other once in a lifetime and you moved on.

I meet Trunks’ wary eyes. He’s wary at my reaction, but he’s not afraid. He’s even amused. Even if he tries to hide it, I can see it and my blood is boiling as I'm aware that I've been fooled for so many years.

“Dad, you’re not mad, are you?” Trunks asks in mild concern.

“Goten? Of all people? Why should I?” I roar, jumping to my feet.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, come on,” he half-sighs half-smiles.

I hate the way he’s mocking me. Clearly enough, everyone has been mocking me in the past years. Goddamit, they even told the kids I was dead!

I focus all my rage on the bottles and an invisible wave of ki makes them all blow up in a rain of glass shards and liquid, splashing the fine carpet and Trunks pants.

“Dad!” Trunks yells in annoyance, but I stopped listening to him. I storm out of the room without a single glance at him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, thank you, everyone. I've had some time to kill lately, so I've drafted most of the chapters to come and I have good hope that I'll be able to complete this story rather quickly. 
> 
> By the way, I have to say the story turned to be a bit different from what I had in mind at first, with less sex, more feelings and side-characters stepping in once in a while. I'm sorry if some of you were disappointed by that, I promise I'll update the tags as soon as I found out how it works. 
> 
> Meanwhile, enjoy.

I’m spread out on the floor, lying flat on my back and staring at the dome-shaped ceiling above me.

Except for the faint trepidations of the generators, everything is silent. The atmosphere feels somewhat hollow and lifeless, but I like it better than any company.

I tried to go into a bar last night after my argument with Trunks and it turned out that I just can’t bear it. Crowd, noise, agitation. The desire to blow up everything ended up creeping up my guts and it gave me a headache. Or maybe the booze did.

Either way, I had to leave the place. I bought a few bottles in a grocery store and I sought a quiet spot where I could be by myself.

Which brought me here, sort of back to square one, lying like a wreck in the Gravity Room.

As I’m contemplating the metallic dome above my head, I’m trying to figure out what I missed. All this time I spent in the Mountain, thinking of you, trying no to, and thinking of you again, thinking of us, I was so self-centered that I forgot the world is much wider than just you and me.

But you know what? Screw the world. I might sound like a narrow-minded, obsessional scum, but it’s fine with me. Why should I change now that I’m almost done with life anyway?

So, guess what I’m doing right now. Thinking shamelessly of you. Again.

I miss you. I’d love to punch your silly face for hiding the kids’ secret from me, but I have to face the fact that it might not happen anytime soon. I should as well get through fair training.

I roll over to my side and everything swings upside down as the movement makes my head spin and throb in pain. I’m definitely no drinker.

I hardly make it up to my feet and I stagger to the door. I try to type the unlocking code, but the damn numbers are dancing senselessly in my brain and it's like I can't catch them. At the second failed attempt, I consider the idea of just blasting the fucking door when I suddenly remember that I still have the fingerprint recognition as an option. I slam my palm on the pad and the door cracks open with a buzz.

I stumble through the hallway to the main door and I dash outside. After a few hazardous steps, I fall to my knees and to my hands and I retch.

Ô, the grace and the dignity of an old good hangover.

It feels like it will never end. I never suspected that my stomach could contain such an amazing amount of liquid. During the whole process, my body spasms painfully, rekindling the aching of my freshly knitted ribs.

It eventually comes to a stop though, leaving me breathless and numb. As I look around, I become aware of the dazzling white around me. The whole garden is covered with snow and the bright light stings my eyes, worsening my headache. I sit up, regardless of the soaked ground, and I wipe my mouth wearily. I feel drained.

I need a coffee.

I still have some strength to hoist myself up to my feet and to weave my way to the back door leading to the kitchen.

I pause as soon as I enter the room.

I haven't set foot here in years and I don’t recognize the kitchen anymore. Bulla has changed the design and it’s a modern style now, nothing like the cozy atmosphere I was used to. Everything’s spotless, all shiny and clean as if no one lived here.

I hate it, but it's maybe better that way.

I walk to the cabinets in search of the coffee maker, but I can’t find the damn thing and I start rummaging carelessly through the tidy shelves.

“Dad?” Bulla's voice calls in surprise.

As I whirl around to her, I find her standing at the entrance of the room, wearing a classy suit with high heels. As usual, I can't miss her stunning beauty. Most of all, I can’t help but think of her mother and even the fog in my brain is unable to cut off that excruciating feeling.

“I need a coffee,” I grunt.

She has a mischievous pout. “I know that face. Rough night, right? The coffee maker is right next to you and the capsules are behind,” she answers, pointing at a black cube on the countertop.

I frown at the weird item. “And the coffee pot?”

She chuckles and crosses the kitchen to join me. “Sit down. Let me take care of that,” she claims, pushing me softly aside.

I step unsteadily to a stool and I do as I'm told. I rest my heavy head in my palm and I watch her absentmindedly as she’s fixing my coffee without a single particle of coffee.

“So? You eventually left your dear Mountain. What happened?” she asked.

“Snowstorm,” I mumble.

The noise of her awful machine pierces through my skull when she turns it on and I squeeze my eyes shut at the irking rumbling.

“Snowstorm?” she repeats when the sound stops.

I open my eyes again, just to meet hers as she is right in front of me, handing the cup to me.

“Wrecked the house,” I add, grabbing the cup and looking away.

The hot, bitter liquid feels surprisingly good, washing down the sourness in my mouth and soothing my sore throat.

“Are you sure it was a snowstorm? Or was it rather a harsh fight? Just asking cause, you know, your eyebrow isn’t quite healed, yet,” she resumes.

I growl in annoyance. I don’t even know why I keep trying to lie to her.

She smiles playfully, her eyes still locked on me. “I guess it was Goku again. Dad, you should definitely work out your social behavior.”

I give her the empty cup. “Make me another one,” I grumble.

“I don’t think it will make you feel any better, but whatever. Where are you staying now? You want me to-”

“I don’t need anything,” I cut off before she starts listing all the so-called upsides of a nice apartment downtown. “I’m staying at Trunks’ for now.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You’re at Trunks’ place? Shit, the bastard is good at hiding things from me,” she hisses.

The words reignite my grudge. “Hiding things from you? And what about Goten and Trunks? Did you know?”

“Know what?” she asks nonchalantly.

“They were the reason why Trunks’ wife left. The morons indulged in … you know… having sex with each other.” I feel awkward at the mention of the shameful affair, but I need to talk about it anyway. I’m somehow hoping that Bulla will share my anger at the news, but of course, I’m kidding myself.

“Sex? Really?” She just answers with a smile. I sense the sarcasm in her voice and she doesn’t look surprised the least.

“Hell, even you knew about it. No one cared to tell me.” I state bitterly.

“Why? Did you care to hear it?” she replies as she hands another coffee to me.

I glare at her. “And you said to the kids I were dead,” I add accusingly. 

She’s not fazed at all by my reproachful tone. “Yeap, we’ve done it years ago and see, no one suspected the lie so far. Does that tell you something? I know you’re not the type to question yourself but I told you more than once that you don’t see anything, so maybe you’ll consider opening your eyes now.”

Gosh, here we are again. Her all too famous “I told you so” shits are out in full force and she pisses me off already. However, it seems some God has mercy on me as she looks up at the watch hanging on the wall and her eyes widen in panic. “Damn! I’m gonna be late. I have to go,” she exclaims.

She rushes to the hallway to get her stuff ready. I hear her heels clicking frantically on the floor as I sip my coffee in relief.

“I’m going, Dad. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I hope you’ll still be there. By the way, I saw, you were in the Gravity Room. You can use it if you want. I had it reactivate a few months ago for Goku. He wanted to give it a try,” her voice claims in the distance.

I almost choke on my coffee as I hear that you used my Gravity Room while I was away, but I have no time to bitch. Bulla shows up back next to me with her coat on. “Make yourself home. It’s good to have you here,” she says softly.

With that, she plants an unexpected kiss on my cheek and she rushes away to the front door. I hear it slam and everything gets back to silence.

 _Make yourself home_. As I sit numbly in the modern kitchen, I realize it’s no longer my kitchen though. This is no longer my home.

I left the house a short time after Bulma died and I never returned until now. It had been our place but it had mostly been her home. She had spent her entire life in there and her spirit’s still floating around. I can’t stand that feeling that she could show up anytime.

I rub my eyelids. I need to sleep, but I can’t bring myself to wander through the damn house. I don’t want to go back to my traitor of a son either.

In lack of option, I head back to the Gravity Room. It might have been my only true personal home after all, and even though I haven’t used it in years, I’m mad at Bulla for allowing you to step into it. Who had the idea in the first place? Was it her and her twisted mind? Was it you as you were somehow willing to intrude on my privacy?

I’m so bitter, figuring all the events that took place while I was away and you were the one who dragged me back to the world. You came to me and you ravaged my house and my comfort.

The Gravity Room isn’t the best place to live. There’s no bed and no bathroom in there. There’s a closet with some stuff of mine though. I hope it hasn’t been removed over the years because I reek.

When I open the closet’s doors, I’m relieved to be rewarded by a row of shelves supporting all my spare clothes neatly folded here and waiting for me. Yet, as my eyes shift over the military order, something discordant catches my attention. A crumpled ball of blue fabric has been mindlessly left here, among the flawless piles of clothes.

I take it and I have an instant pang as I recognize one of your shirts.

I should be angry. You definitely disturbed my personal space. Not only did you dare using my Gravity Room but you had the nerves to scatter your shits around.

Yet, oddly enough, anger doesn’t come out. An unexpected grief washes over me instead.

It feels as if you were dead. I know you’re not but I’m aware that we might spend long years apart before I see you again. You left the Planet already and even if I wanted to look for you, I wouldn’t have a clue where to find you.

And even if we were to meet tomorrow, we’ll never be the same again. We won’t spar anymore the way we used to, nor will we ever tease each other, or fight over food. I’ll even miss your silly talk.

All this is gone because from now on, the memories of what happened and the fear of what might happen will always plague our relationship.

My chest clenches painfully and I feel a sob crawling up my throat. I try to repress it but it’s too strong and for the first time in a long time, I find myself crying. It makes me mad and I growl in frustration, and yet the tears force their way down my cheek.

I drop to my knees, sinking my face in your shirt in an attempt to hide. What from? I don’t know. My move backfires on me though as your scent overwhelms me at once and rekindles the pain, making the weeping uncontrollable.

I curl up on the floor, clutching the fabric and punching the floor in rage and despair, doing my best not to be too loud in case someone heard me.

Of course, no one’s here though. I’m on my own. I’m bound to be on my own.


	12. Chapter 12

While sipping my coffee, I stare thoughtfully at the piece of metal lying on the counter of the kitchen. A bunch of wires pokes tauntingly out of it but it doesn’t help my brain the least.

This mess comes from the system controlling the gravity of my training room, but no matter how hard I focus, I just can’t remember what Bulma taught me about the best way to repair it after it went overheating. It was all such a long time ago and I’ve never been gifted with machines anyway.

I eventually sigh in defeat. I had hoped that Bulla could give me a hand on this but she’s been away for days and I’m fed up with waiting for her return. She said I could call her anytime. The only problem is I don’t have her number. Hell, I don’t even have a phone.

I’m pretty sure I could find everything I need if I sought through the house but I’m not ready to venture into that ghost territory. I’ve been here for two weeks already and I haven't stepped further than the kitchen's boundaries so far, sleeping in an awful makeshift bed in the Gravity Room and showering outside near the swimming pool despite the freezing temperature, so needless to say, I won’t explore the place just to find Bulla’s number and phone.

Which only leaves me with a single option, I guess.

I grab my jacket and I exit the kitchen to fly off to the sky.

I hadn’t planned to come back to Trunks so soon. I’m still mad at him for screwing up as he did with your son, but I have to admit he always stands as my last resort every time I feel cornered and I know he won’t turn me down.

The snow is gone, and a bright, cold sun is shining this morning. The neat villas on the hills of West City look peaceful with their perfect lawns, their spotless frontages, and the shiny cars parked in the yards. I never figured that Trunks was living in such a conventional neighborhood before. It’s so far from our warriors’ roots.

I shouldn't be surprised though. My kids have always been spoiled, rich brats with an excessive love for comfort.

When I enter the house, I’m welcomed by a tantalizing smell of coffee and I’m glad to figure that Trunks is awake, but as I head for the kitchen, I stop dead on the doorstep.

Instead of Trunks, Goten is sitting there alone with a mug in his hand, reading the newspaper resting on the counter in front of him. I can't miss that the moron is shirtless and bare feet, which makes me upset and awkward at once.

When he stares up at me, he doesn’t even look surprised to see me, however. As if he weren’t the intruder here. “Hey, Vegeta. Long time no see. Want a cup of coffee?” he greets.

I slowly resume my walk into the room with my eyes locked on him. Processing the sight of his casual breakfast, I become reluctantly aware that I misunderstood Trunks' confession. I thought it had all been about a one-night-stand with your son, a sexual urge they hadn't been able to withstand, yet it seems that their relationship is deeper than that.

I don't know if I like it better.

He looks so much like you. His bangs floating randomly over his face, his kind features, and his smile. Fuck, I can't stand this smile.

“I have to see Trunks,” I claim sternly.

He blinks at me and it makes him look so clueless that it makes me want to slap him. “He’s still asleep,” he states.

I frown at the answer. “I need him to fix the Gravity Room,” I add as I post myself next to him.

He nods. “Well, then, you’ll have to wait because as I said, he’s still sleeping,” he replies.

Despite his patient tone, his gaze makes it clear that he’ll get in my way if I were to kick my son’s ass out of his bed. I can’t believe the nerves of that boy.

“Take a coffee,” he carries on by grabbing the can of steaming coffee.

I hesitate, but the smell is appealing. Maybe Trunks won’t be long to show up after all. As I eventually take place in the stool next to his, I’m rewarded by your typical bright beam stretching Goten's lips. “Take some food too, if you feel like,” he offers.

He gets up to fetch a clean mug in the cabinet and I can’t help but study the perfect curves of his back. Your son is quite handsome. He’s not as built up as you are, but he's still a first-choice piece of meat. He would have been a big hit in Freeza’s army, believe me.

Arg, fuck this.

His body just keeps reminding me of you and I hate the feeling. “Can’t you at least put something on?” I ask grumpily.

He doesn’t answer, just grabbing a T-shirt lying around on his way back to me. “Yeah, sorry. Trunks told me you were kind of upset to figure out about the two of us,” he resumes while slipping the garment on.

“Upset? Really? I’d rather say disappointed,” I growl.

He cocks an eyebrow as he sits back next to me. “Disappointed? Why is that?” he asks innocently.

Do you know what I hate the most in Goten? You. Because, hell, this boy just seems to be a clone of you sometimes. I mean, Gohan has his own way of being. He’s physically and mentally quite different from you, but Goten… Damn. The worst thing is that, at this very moment, I’m pretty sure he acts like you on purpose. Just to get on my nerves.

I decide to consider his stupid question as a rhetorical one, just like I would with one of yours. “So? Are you living here? Or are Trunks and you just a part-time crap whenever your dicks are getting too wild?” I ask instead.

He has an offended frown at my words.

See? I can hit nerves too.

“You really enjoy being nasty. You didn’t change that much over the years,” he eventually mumbles as he fills my mug.

The statement makes me smirk. I actually hold it as a fair compliment and I definitely have to prove him right. “Thinking of it, I haven’t seen you around when I was staying here, so I guess it’s actually a half-time crap.”

I sense him tense. I love that game. For some reason, your son feels like the best target for all my anger and frustration.

He glares at me. “I do live with Trunks most of the time and since you really care, let me tell you that you haven’t seen me around because I had to take care of my own father,” he retorts.

The sudden mention of you freezes me to the bones.

Goten is watching out for my reaction and I do my best to look emotionless, shifting on my stool as unease twists my guts.

The truth is I crave to hear from you. I’ve been wondering how you were dealing with the situation. Maybe, you’ve moved on already. Maybe, you found another Planet, another world where you would learn new tricks to fight and befriend extraordinary beings without me. Maybe you forgot about us already. You can be so oblivious sometimes.

I can’t let your son think that all this affects me though. “Are you kidding me? I know Kakarott has left Earth. I haven’t felt his ki for a good while,” I point out.

Goten shrugs “He’s hiding. He doesn’t want anyone around him. I’ve never seen him so down, but you don’t care anyway, do you?”

 _Hiding_. The word comes as a shock to me. Are you really hiding? Is that so? You, the greatest among the greatest. An almost God. Universes’ saver and the most beloved of all, with ki so bright and so solar that nothing ever clouds it. You’re shutting yourself away from the world, withdrawing your light from anyone. Why?

Is it because of the shame? Even shame is supposed to be unknown to you - there’s no shame when all you do is right. Or is it the grief? Your kind spirit has always overcome any grief.

Maybe you’re just scared at what you did. It sounds unlike you, but you never faced the rage of your own instinct before. Did it change you already? Did it turn you into a frightened wretch?

Mulling over your misery, I stare absently down at my coffee. I can visualize your pained face and it wrenches my heart.

I almost forgot Goten’s eyes glued to me. “Do you?” he repeats, his voice now demanding.

His accusing tone feels like salt on my wound, reminding me that I screwed up. I should have chased you away the day you showed up in the Mountain. I could already sense the greed growing inside you then, and instead of keeping you away from the danger, I allowed you to share my home, knowing that the closeness would feed your inner monster. I was selfish, happy to see you eventually embrace the very same aching fight I had been in for years. I believed that you would stand up by my side and make things easier for me. I’ve been foolish and reckless and you are the one to pay the dearest price. The guilt is bothering me but there’s no way I’ll admit it openly, especially to your son.

“Why, no, I don’t care for him, why would I?” I snap hatefully at him.

Goten's features hardened, nothing near the softness he welcomed me with at first. “Because you were the one to hurt him! He’s the only one who always stood by your side even when you were a total jerk. He always accepted you as the selfish ass that you are! That’s why you should care! And still, you’re unable to give a shit about him. You only care for yourself. Fuck you, choke yourself on your pointless pride,” he spits at me.

I cringe at the outcome. Damn, I withdraw everything I said about your boy. He’s nothing like you. Except for the fact that he doesn’t get a thing, maybe. “Watch out, boy. I’m also hot-headed,” I snarl threateningly.

He’s unimpressed at my warning though. Quite the opposite, I should say. He glares daggers at me as he insists. “What did you do to him?”

I huff. “I wanted him out of my life and since he didn’t get the point, I kicked him out.”

“Bastard!” Goten growls, yanking brusquely the collar of my jacket.

The contact is a bit too much for me. My fury flares up and I immediately catch his wrist, lifting my fist to punch his fucking playboy face, but Trunks’ voice booms at once.

“Dad!”

I freeze my gesture and, giving a side-glance, I see Trunks marching to us. “Don’t you dare touch him,” he murmurs.

His eyes are iron cold and I know him enough to let him have his way when he clutches my fist and forces it down. Goten’s grip on my collar loosens and I shove him away from me with a last glare. How comes Trunks ended up fucking your little prick of a son? Do you know that?

“Damn, so early in the morning,” Trunks moans as he steps away from us to grab the coffee can.

“Your silly boyfriend needs some workout,” I grunt.

“And your psychopathic father needs a shrink,” Goten snaps back.

“Stop it! For Kami’s sake, your stupid fight just woke me up,” Trunks sighs in a begging tone.

As I am to reply, he cuts me off, “Dad, shut up!”

Goten smiles triumphantly at the order. “And Goten, seriously? Stop teasing him, what are you? A kid?” Trunks adds.

Goten pouts in disagreement, but at least he stops grinning. I deem it wiser to stop paying him any mind. “I need you to fix something in the Gravity Room,” I claim, addressing Trunks instead.

“Geez, are you back to that?” he replies by pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“I tried to do it by myself but I can’t remember the way and your sister has been lost somewhere in space for two days,” I resume.

He sips his coffee thoughtfully. “I can’t come right now,” he says.

Goten wraps his arm around his waist and plants a kiss on his cheek. “We got plans,” your son adds playfully.

“Don’t do this, in front of me,” I hiss.

Goten’s eyes widen in a fake questioning expression. “What? That?” he asks as he goes for another kiss. Luckily, Trunks stops his move by placing his palm on his mouth. “Don’t. Goten, you should really go get dressed,” he suggests.

“And stop touching his ass. I see that, too,” I bark in utter irritation.

The little scum raises his hands in an innocent stance and walks out of the kitchen with a chuckle.

“Moron,” I growl when he’s gone.

Trunks shrugs with a smile.

“Making a show of yourself the way he did was totally messed up,” I insist.

“Considering you haven’t noticed us for years, it was the only way to catch your attention in the end,” Trunks points out.

Ok. I’m fed up with these talks now. I urge to go back to my lonely routine. “I’ll be at the Capsule whenever you have time for me,” I grunt.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haloa. Thank you very much for all the feedback. Have fun.

The woman behind the reception desk looks up at me in confusion and I repress an annoyed sigh. Dealing with people has definitely become an ordeal for me. I can’t help but flex my fists cautiously stuck in my pockets.

“I’d like to see Vegeta Briefs,” I repeat patiently.

She glances aside at her coworkers in hesitation, then her eyes shift back to me. “Do you have an appointment?” she asks.

“It’s personal,” I reply.

Her features break into total disbelief as she studies my old jacket but she eventually has a second thought when she notices the worn-out Capsule logo adorning the sleeve. “May I ask your name? I’ll see what I can do.”

“Vegeta Briefs.”

Her frown deepens and I know that she’s starting to wonder if I’m not some sort of retarded sicko.

“Senior,” I add as I remember the word. “I’m his grandfather.”

I can read suspicion and puzzlement all over her face this time and I realize that my look doesn’t match my statement. According to her very Earthling standard, I’m way too young to be Vegeta Briefs’ grandfather. The whole show starts to get seriously on my nerves.

“Okay, would you wait for a second? I have to call his office,” she replies nevertheless.

I grunt in agreement and she stands up to pick a phone far from me, at the other end of the counter.

Looking away, I study the huge hall of Capsule Corporation. It’s all glass and metal in a modern style. The kind Bulla loves. People in smart outfits are wandering around and their small talks echo like a soft humming in the vast space.

I haven’t come here a lot, even when Bulma was alive and the place has never been familiar to me. Now, it frankly feels like some cold, foreign territory.

I turn back to the reception desk. The woman is still talking on the phone and some of her coworkers have gathered around her. They’re peeking at me in distrust and I can feel their restlessness.

It makes me well aware that I don’t belong here – in case I had missed that point. I don’t even know why I came in the first place.

I sigh and I just walk away, ignoring their questioning stares.

As I exit the building, I’m greeted by the crisp air of the day. The sun’s gone, shielded by thick, white clouds and it smells of snow again. I fly my way back to Bulma's house and as soon as my feet touch the ground, I scan the place for ki's signature. I don’t feel Bulla around, but I’m pleased to figure that Trunks is in the Gravity Room.

I find him working on the control panel with tools scattered around him. He’s leaning over a tiny piece of metal, focusing on his job, and he doesn’t move when I come in.

I sit in a chair next to him and I wait wordlessly.

He eventually straightens and looks at me. “I’m almost done. Would you get us some beer?” he says before going back to his work.

I do as I’m said and fetch some beer in the kitchen fridge. When I’m back to the Gravity Room, Trunks seems to be done and he’s screwing a plate back to the console.

I rest a can next to him and I sit back in my chair.

He’s giving a very close look at what he’s doing and I note that he has glasses on. It’s the first time I see him with glasses. I wonder why he needs to put them on. I remember that Bulma also needed glasses at the end of her life. She was pissed when she had to get them and she explained to me that people’s sight would weaken with age.

I have a pang at the thought because for the first time I’m considering that Trunks might get old. How old is he anyway? Seventy? Hard to say when he still looks like he’s in his mid-thirties.

Do you think that our sons will die before us? I mean, they’re half-blooded and they never turned into the godly form so they might not be cursed with the same longevity as us. Still, it wouldn’t be fair, would it?

I’ve never mulled over this question before. It's freaky and I try to shove the gloomy reflections to the back of my mind.

“It should do,” Trunks claims by putting his screwdriver down along with the glasses.

I can’t help but stare at him, looking for any faint wrinkles or white threads in his light hair. I don’t find any, but does that mean anything?

Before I know it, I whisper, “I’m sorry for what I said.”

Trunks frowns at me, uncertain if he heard me well. I’m annoyed by my own word though, and instead of repeating, I open up my beer and I take a sip of it, hoping he’ll forget what I said.

He sighs as he grabs his own beer. “Well, Goten was an ass too. He’s worried about Goku.”

I pinch my lips. My fight with Goten wasn’t what I wanted to apologize for. Your son’s a prick anyway. I’m mostly sorry about all the things I told Trunks about his kids and the way he lost them, but whatever, I suck when it comes to apologies so why should I bother?

“I tried to see Vegeta,” I resume.

Trunks' face darkens. He slowly leans back in his chair, his untouched beer in his hand. “Huh.”

“I couldn’t meet him. Capsule Corporation is a big circus and no one knows me anymore.” I add.

He shrugs. “Bulla could arrange it for you if you wish, but I don’t get why you’d want to see him now.”

That’s a good question. I was never around, why do I feel the need to visit the kid now? Maybe I’m feeling like reconnecting with people. Maybe you pushed me out of my protective loneliness. You made me realize that people still care for me and that I might care for them as well - even though I really did my best to burn any bridges with the rest of the world in the past years.

“The last time I saw him was at your mother’s funeral and we didn’t talk much then. I’m curious to see the person he’s become,” I answer.

“He’s become just like you,” Trunks replies absently before sipping his beer.

I cock an eyebrow. “Really? I can’t wait to see that.” This sounds exciting.

Trunks blurts a bitter laugh. “Yeah, an Earthling version of you if you hadn’t met Goku and Mum. That’s exactly who he is.”

I sense the pain in the statement and it stirs me up. “He still doesn’t want to see you, does he? Why is that? Your divorce is old history now and you told me he was close to Bulla nevertheless.”

Trunks lowers his gaze and he starts toying with his can, twisting it absently between his fingers. “He doesn’t only hold me a grudge for the wrong I did to his mother, it’s also about Goten. He really looked up to him before all this. I guess our affair was a double betrayal to him. He told me that there would be no way to fix things between us as long as I’ll be with Goten.”

Damn, it seems my grandson is quite unbending. And yet, Trunks didn't yield either. I’m quite stunned at the strength of his attachment to Goten.

“It’s all my fault anyway,” Trunks sighs. “I’ve denied my feelings for Goten for too long and it blew up in my face, hurting my family in the process.”

I have a slight frown at the confession. You know what? I never suspected that the link between our sons was so deep. I mean, they were pretty good friends when they were kids, but it was mostly… Did you notice anything before? Certainly not, you’re way too brainless for that. They hid everything pretty well too.

“Deny always blows up in your face,” Trunks concludes with a thoughtful peek at me.

I feel unease creeping up my guts as I try to figure what he’s hinting at and I wait for him to elaborate, but he keeps quiet. The silence is awkward for a moment.

Trunks eventually puts down his beer to pack his tools. “The Gravity Room might work perfectly now. Take it easy though.”

I'm relieved at the sign that our talk is over and I knock down the rest of my beer before throwing the can in the trash.

“By the way, I saw that you set up a bed here and you have all your stuff too. That’s weird,” he resumes.

“Well, yeah, it’s better that way,” I mumble hesitantly.

“Better? The heating system isn’t on top here. The weather’s so cold, you’d be warmer sleeping in the house,” he points out.

I don’t answer. I turn my back to him, pretending to test the command of the newly repaired Gravity Room.

Trunks doesn’t insist. He just blurts a sigh behind me. “Goku is in Mount Paozu,” he claims brusquely.

I’m startled by his speech. It feels like a stab in my guts. Why the hell does he need to tell me such a thing? I repress any reaction, waiting for him to go away.

I feel him still standing behind me though. “Maybe, you should…”

“What?” I cut him off in a growl. I whirl around with a deadly glare at him. “I should what? Go see him? Stop thinking Goku is the key to everything because he’s not. Or are you going to blame me as Goten did? You both know nothing about the reasons why we fought, so shut the fuck up and don’t step in!”

An overwhelming, painful rage washes over me as I speak. A lump has formed in my throat and I realize that I somehow lost control of my emotion. I gasp for air as Trunks gazes at me totally unimpressed.

“I knocked Goten out once,” he claims in a low, calm voice.

I frown as my confused brain tries to connect his statement with the current talk. I expect him to tell me more, but he doesn’t. He just grabs his bag and exits the Gravity Room with a brief wave of his hand.

What the hell was that?

As I find myself sitting alone in the quiet room with my heart racing, I feel incredibly lost all of a sudden. I turn around to look at the console. My eyes shift to the training room behind the security windowpane as if trying to remember where I am and what I was about to do but my wits are slow to gather.

There I am. I intended to train. I need some workout. Or do I? Is it really what I need right now? I rub my fists against my eyelids with a deep sigh. My lonely life in the Mountain without you was so much more simple.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning here for there is a homophobic reply in there. A stupid thing you might have heard a thousand times in real life, but still a violent, nasty word.

I think someone rang the doorbell. Not sure though, cause I’m pretty drunk by now.

I’m stupidly sitting in a chair in the frozen garden, a crowd of empty beer cans lying at my feet. The alcohol has numbed my mind the same way the freezing cold has numbed my body.

Scarce snowflakes are dancing in the air around me. I have no clue about what time it is, but the sky is dark already and the lantern of the garden has automatically been switched on.

The doorbell echoes again. I knew I heard it.

I don’t move. Entering that house still freaks me out and since Bulla hasn’t returned yet, there is no point in opening the door to her visitor.

I drop my empty can and I open up another one. It’s nearly frozen, and the liquid chills my entire being with each sip.

I’ve considered to snatch a new capsuled house and to steal away back to my Mountain, but for some reasons, the plan feels empty. So, the true question nagging at my mind now is what to do next? God, will it still be long before I stop needing an answer to this question? I should ask Whis someday. He might know how long a godly Saiyan is to live. I don’t want to see my kids pass away and I don’t want to end alone, but what company is there to hope if it isn’t for you?

I interrupt my bleak musing as I make out a figure coming out through the back door. I watch warily as a young man steps confidently to me.

As much as I can see in the weak light, he’s rather handsome and I wonder whether he’s some of Bulla’s boyfriends. I hope not. I have no will to deal with such shit right now.

He doesn’t seem afraid. He’s dressed in black, his frame wrapped in a long coat and even though his look is somewhat grim, I don’t feel any threat shining through him. Quite the opposite, his ki feels familiar.

He pauses a few steps away from me. He doesn't seem surprised to find me here and he studies me unabashedly. His eyes shift from me to the empty cans, then back to me. He gives me a little smile and I recognize him at last. “Aren’t you cold out there?” he asks.

“Vegeta,” I murmur.

He nods in confirmation. “Won’t you come inside?” He offers.

“Only in the kitchen,” I growl.

He shrugs and whirls around to walk back to the backdoor. I struggle to my feet to follow him, aware that I’m not in my best condition to play long-no-see Grandpa. I’m still proud to figure out that the boy grew into an attractive, fearless man. Quite Princely, I have to say.

As he stands under the kitchen’s light, I realize that he truly looks like me. Trunks had meant it literally as well figuratively, it seems.

“I haven’t eaten, yet. Do you mind if I help myself?” He asks by stripping his coat off.

“As you wish. Technically speaking, this is not my house anyway,” I sigh. I cross my arms and I lean my back against the counter while he opens the fridge and rummages through it.

I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s changed a lot. He used to be a quiet, sulking teenager with a damn bad temper, which got on my nerves at the time. Bulma told me these traits were due to his age. She might have been right because he looks bold and self-assured now that he's fully grown up - The perfect leader’s type – and the difference with the picture I had kept in mind is rather stunning.

“Do you want some?” he asks me as he’s piling food on a plate. It looks appealing and I remember that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

I nod in agreement and for some reason, he smiles at my answer.

“When I saw you on the video of the security system of Capsule Corporation, I knew it was you,” he says as he rests the plate between us.

We both climb stools next to each other and I grab a chicken drumstick at once. “You’re not easy to reach,” I reply.

“Yeah, I like it that way,” he chuckles before starting his meal as well.

We eat in silence for a good while. He looks as hungry as me and I can’t help but peek at him as often as I can. His hair is Saiyan hair. Black, unruly, wild no matter the efforts he puts in to keep them down. I wonder if he can fight. It sounds unlikely considering Bulla has been his only connection to our family for years. Maybe I could teach him some tricks.

We don’t speak until the plate is empty. “Gosh, I needed this,” he claims, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Yeap, I have to admit that it feels good,” I agree. The food helped me sober up a little.

He pours himself a glass of wine and he resumes. “They told me you were dead. You don’t look very dead to me though. I’d say quite the opposite, you look as young and fit as Aunt Bulla.”

“Get used to it, that’s how it works with our blood,” I shrug.

He nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, staying young forever, leaving your family behind and lying that’s how it works.”

I don’t miss the reproach in his voice. He might be much more human than I thought at first sight. I smirk at his statement. “Lying is the Earthling side, however.”

He pinches his lips at the sarcasm. He’s pissed, I know. Maybe he didn’t totally lose his bad temper after all. He certainly expects me to show a low profile and take sheepishly all the blames. He’s going to be sorely disappointed.

“Why did you disappear the way you did?” he grunts.

“I was busy,” I answer in a nonchalant tone.

“That’s not true. I know for sure that my liar of a father has been in touch with you all the time,” he hisses accusingly.

It’s quite amusing how this brat believes he can frame me into shame. We're definitely strangers to each other. “Oh, you do know that. And how would you since you haven’t talked to your father in years?” I point out flatly.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Because of Goten of course. You’re always hanging on to his Dad and Goten is still fucking my own Dad, so it’s not hard to guess that you’re all in touch.”

This time I have to rub the bridge of my nose to repress my urge to punch him. I take a deep breath before I look back at him. “First, remember that age doesn’t matter. I’m still your grandfather, so watch out your language when addressing me and when speaking of your father. Second, I’m not always _hanging on to_ Kakarott as you say.”

He snickers mockingly at that. “What does bother you so much? The fact that your son is being fucked or the fact that you’re bound to Goku’s shadow, never able to surpass him once and for all?”

That’s too much. My fist flies straight to his face. His feet leave the ground as he’s brusquely flung away. His body bounced on the floor and slides to the other side of the kitchen.

I held back, I swear. A bit. God, Bulla’s going to kill me for this but it feels so good, you have no idea.

For a moment, everything’s silent. I’m still fuming, trying hard to regain control of my nerves. “I told you to watch your language,” I grunt nervously.

He props himself up on one hand and turns his head to me. Huh, maybe I didn’t hold back as much as I thought, but at least, the walls are still untouched. His face is a mess though. His cheekbone is swollen and bruised while his lips are dripping in blood.

Regardless, he still glares hard at me. To his credit, he hasn’t blurted a single whimper. He spits some blood and sits up, his eyes full of hate and anger. “So, that’s it? Does truth disturb you that much? Is it how you handle it?” he hisses, trying to hide any expression of his pain.

He got some nerves to keep defying me that way. Oddly enough, I can feel that he enjoys it. Somehow it reminds me of me when I was younger. For my own sake, I couldn’t shut my mouth when facing Freezer, and more often than not, I had to pay a dear price for my cockiness. And yet, I couldn’t help it. Upsetting Freezer was a pleasure I couldn’t resist, as a way to overcome the humiliation of being weaker than him.

I don’t like this game anymore though.

My fingers drum on the counter as I watch Vegeta struggling to his feet. His vivid gaze won’t let go of me. I didn’t expect our reunion to turn out this way.

There’s something unfair here. You’ve abandoned your family for years and when you’ve eventually turned back, you were rewarded with cheerful welcomes and bright smiles. And what do I get? A little, bitter cunt.

“Trunks didn’t tell me that you were such a prick. I should have taken the hint, I guess,” I sigh.

“Bulla didn’t tell me that you were such a bastard either. I should have taken the hint too, I guess,” he growls, catching a napkin to clean the blood smearing his chin and mouth.

His trembling hand reaches out for his pocket and he takes a cigarette out of it. He lit it nervously and for a split second, his gestures look exactly the same as Bulma’s when she used to smoke. “I didn’t expect you to be so strong either. How old are you now? Hundred or so?” he resumes after his first drag.

“You’re strong too. You just ignore your strength. Go see your father and he’ll teach you how to use it,” I retort.

He chuckles. “That faggot? No way.”

I glare at him and he has a slight backlash as he realizes that he insulted Trunks again despite my warning. “I don’t want to have anything to do with him,” he claims defensively.

“Go see him and no one will ever beat you like I just did,” I insist coldly.

He squints. “Not even you?”

“Especially not me,” I confirm.

He squints thoughtfully while taking another drag of his cigarette. “I could beat you back, then?”

I smirk at that. “You could try, but don’t push your luck, boy. Just – go see him. Believe me, resentment and hate… They’ll just eat you away.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at my words. “Huh, so you’re a philosophe too.”

“No, I’m hundred years old,” I whisper as a sudden weariness washes over me.

For some reason, I miss you sorely at that moment. I’m pretty sure you could coax the little bastard into reconsidering his grudge against his father. Despite your natural stupidity, I’m pretty sure you would find the right words and even though he’s an ass, you wouldn’t greet him with a punch in the face after years apart. You would get him to love you like you always do with everyone.

At least your usual self does. The, I wonder again. Are you still yourself? This question is driving me crazy. Maybe I should just check out.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Thanks for all the support. The next chapter might be longer to come as it needs some serious work and I won't have much time for it in the coming days.

Basically, I only planned to take a glimpse at you from afar, just to see how you were doing.

It was dumb, I realize it now that I’m shivering in the freezing night of Mount Paozu with my ki suppressed and my eyes numbly locked on your house.

There’s nothing for me to see here. You’re certainly not to go out at this ungodly hour and since you’re hiding your energy, I can’t even read it.

This game of hide-and-seek is definitely going nowhere. If I want to get news from you, I don’t have a load of options. Either I have to swallow my pride and ask your sons, or, well, I just have to ask you.

Now that I’m here, half-frozen, with no will to travel back through the terrible wind to West City, I should as well go and see you, don’t you think?

As a matter of fact, I’m a bit wary of what could come out of our meeting. I’m aware that I still have to be careful. Your instincts might still be lurking down your mind and if they were to wake up again, my visit would end in a complete disaster.

I look up at the house with a hesitant sigh. I can’t feel any ki inside and there are still lights on inside, so I assume that you’re alone and still awake.

The biting cold presses me to make a decision and I eventually unleash my ki while struggling my way through the pack of snow to your door.

Let’s hope that your place won’t get wasted like mine.

I’m a bit nervous and I knock louder than intended. After a short while, the door slowly cracks open, unveiling your figure standing against the light. I can hardly make out your features in the dimness, but I can tell you don’t wear your usual grin.

“Vegeta,” you murmur in disapproval.

You don’t clear my way in, staying like a statue in the doorframe and making it obvious that I’m unwanted. It’s hurting in a way, but oddly enough, I don’t feel hurt. I feel worried. It’s so far from your normal self that I can’t help but wonder again if your dark side hasn’t drowned your spirit somehow. I have to know.

“I won’t stay long, but can you at least let me in? It’s damn cold out there,” I mumble grumpily.

I glimpse your slight frown in the twilight, but you take a step back so that I can come inside and close the door. Still, you post yourself in the middle of the hallway, shielding my way into the rest of the house. “You shouldn’t have come,” you claim in a low voice.

You don’t sound angry and yet, there’s an underlying warning in your statement hinting that I have something to fear. What a joke. Do you seriously believe that you can cow me away, you jackass? “You shouldn’t have stayed on Earth with your chatterbox of a son around,” I retort.

Your frown deepens. “I need my family by my side,” you stammer awkwardly.

No kidding. That’s a first. And yet, you’re on your own tonight.

“They won’t be able to help you,” I object and as I’m speaking, I take a step forward. You back away instinctively to keep a distance between us and your reaction twists my guts.

You don’t answer. You just turn your head to look away and the light coming from the living room brightens your face for the first time. Your skin is alarmingly pale and you have deep black rings under your eyes. You look the same as when we go through intense training and end up drained, sleep-deprived, and starving.

“You look like shit,” I point out in a softer tone. “Pay me a hot drink. I nearly froze my ass to fly from West City.”

You’re reluctant to obey at first. Your hands are trembling and you shift from one foot to another, but you eventually head to the kitchen. As I follow you through the living room, I can’t help but note the mess in here. I haven’t come to Mont Paozu in a long time but the place is nothing near the spotless home it used to be when your wife was alive. 

The kitchen is no better. Dirty dishes are piled in the sink and the counter is stained with old traces of food and crumbs. I try not to pay attention to the disgusting sight and I take off my coat and scarf.

A teapot already stands on the table. You grab a dirty cup in the sink and you turn on the tap to rinse it carelessly. “There. The tea might still be warm, help yourself,” you grunt by snapping the wet cup on the table.

I watch you in concern. Your son had been right. You’re pathetically down. I’ve never seen you like this before.

You stare back at me, tense, wariness painted over your face. Your moist hands are nervously clinging to each other and you stand cautiously a few steps away from me as if I were about to attack you anytime.

“Sit down,” I offer with a weary sigh.

I take place in a chair, pushing aside the cup you got me, but you don’t join me.

You rub the bridge of your nose and damn, you look exhausted. “What is it you want, Vegeta? I know you don’t want me. You made your point pretty clearly.”

My heart sinks at your words. Did I really say such a thing? I’m confused now. Damn, you always get me wrong.

“And as result, I nearly killed you,” you add in a whisper, lowering your gaze and draping your arms around you. There are dejection and guilt in your voice.

“It’s not a first for me. I’ve seen worse before,” I mutter.

You huff softly, your head still down. “It was like nothing you’ve seen before, trust me. You have no idea of the madness that was going through my mind then.”

I know what you say is true, but I don’t want it to affect you. After all, all our troubles come from the fact that you’ve always been unable to kill me, so what difference does it make to count one more missed opportunity?

“And I nearly raped you too,” you carry on, looking up at me this time.

I read the pain on your face and I feel how hard it is for you to word that fact in front of me. You’re ashamed, but you want me to know that you’re aware of your fault.

“And yet, you did none of these things,” I point out.

You press your lips in annoyance. “Do you know what saved you that night Vegeta?” you asked brusquely.

Of course, I know. I was saved because it was you and it was me. You’re fundamentally good. You can’t stand to harm anyone for no reason - especially me, I can vouch for that - and your spirit rebelled against your instinct. That’s what saved me, but you don’t see it.

“You blacked out,” you claim. “You stopped fighting and that’s what allowed me to gather my wits and regain control of myself.”

You divert your eyes from me and I can sense that you're deeply hurt at your own statement. You’re scared too. Scared that it could happen again, that your lust for me would get ahold of you and that you would lash at me again.

“Believe me, it’s best for us to stay apart cause I get totally insane when you’re near me and I can’t stand the idea of hurting you,” you conclude with a tired sigh.

Do you really believe that we can get rid of each other so easily? Crap. No matter how hard I tried, I could never keep you away from me very long and I’m much more strong-willed than you are, so let’s face it, we won’t make it away from each other. As long as we’re alive, it will never work.

“So, this is your solution. Shutting yourself away into that filthy shithole, being the ghost of yourself and brooding over what you did?” I snap.

You shrug pitifully. “I’ll get over it, I guess. What other option do I have? Whenever you’re around, I feel it creeping back in my guts like –“

I stand up and you interrupt yourself at my sudden move. Without a second thought, I step up to you. I see a dull panic kindling in your eyes and you back away until you’re stuck against the counter. I keep walking though.

“D – Don’t,” you stammer.

As a last resort, you raise your hand to prevent me from coming closer but I grab it gently and I force it down. You’re tense at my touch and you look away with your eyes closed as if expecting me to hit you.

“I never said I didn’t want you,” I murmur.

I feel you cringe at my words. “Shut up, please,” you mumble.

“When I was in Freezer’s army,” I start in a low voice. I pause though. I never talked of my life under Freezer to anyone. I never could. It’s still something I’d rather forget, and yet I have to acknowledge that I don’t have the choice right now. I have to speak. I owe it to you.

You open your eyes and you glance aside at me. I can tell you’re curious now. It doesn’t make things easier for me though. I take a deep breath before I resume. “We… I had these sorts of relationships with other soldiers. It was… huh, an instinct of domination of some sort. I guess we were so used to violence that it was our only way to interact, even sexually.”

“You had sex with male soldiers?” you whisper in surprise.

I just nod, unwilling to word my answer. “When we felt like having sex, it always started with a fight and the winner could have his way. We were used to spending our time in battle and battle was everything that excited us. It was feral and hateful sex, always ending up in nasty injuries, but it was much needed anyway.”

You squint thoughtfully at my explanation. “Do you mean, I’m like Freezer’s soldier?”

I cringe at the question. How dare you compare yourself to these soulless scumbags? I give a patient sigh. “Of course not, but you dedicated your life to battles as well and your fighting instincts flare up when facing an opponent, no matter the battlefield. Your will to overcome him takes the upper hand and blinds you.”

I study your face with the hope to read understanding on it, but I only find a confused frown there.

“You’re no opponent to me, Vegeta,” you object.

“I am when I fight back your wanting.”

“Then, why do you fight back? Unless you don’t want me, I mean,”

I let go of your hands with another sigh and I take a step back. “Because I’m a fighter too. I can’t let you have your way.”

Your features break into realization at last. “And the more you fight,”

“The more I excite your instincts,” I end in a murmur.

A deep sadness clouds your eyes when you conclude. “It’s hopeless then. I don’t want to turn into a monster and hurt you.”

A heavy silence falls on us as we’re facing each other in sorrow. Nothing affects me like looking at your pained face and it’s hard to keep my composure. I can’t brace myself to just leave you behind and fly back to West City though. I understand that I won’t make it on my own. Not anymore. I’ve been strong my whole life, never showing the slightest weakness, but I’m tired of that.

If you have to kill me, then so be it. Your hands had been on my throat all this time and I know now that they won’t ever let go of me, that I don’t want them to.

“Maybe, you wouldn’t,” I breathe.

You frown at my statement.

“Freezer’s soldiers were ruthless and most of all, they were hateful, but you’re not like that. Deep down, your true self refuses to hurt me, so maybe, if we were careful if I tried hard to control myself and you did the same… Maybe we could learn,” I offer.

You lift a hesitant hand and you brush my hair with your trembling palm. “It’s dangerous,” you object halfheartedly.

I run my fingers on your lips. I crave to kiss you. I’m burning inside. “And we never shrink from danger, do we?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there. This last chapter took a bit longer. I hope you'll like it. Thank you for following this story. It was mostly a short thing (actually longer than intended) because I enjoy so much writing Vegeta. Take care -

I’ve been the one to initiate the kiss but your tongue has eventually joined mine. You’re still hesitant, willing to take the lead, and yet afraid of what would come out of it.

Your lips are gently sucking mines, looking for more of me and you let go a notch. Lifting your hands, you cup my head to pull me closer. Your move is very cautious as if I were something fragile that you could shatter with an unfortunate gesture.

Then, you dig your fingers through my locks and you tighten your grip a bit.

I wrap a hand around the nape of your neck as a way to encourage you and I feel your shiver at my contact. You’re tense.

You break the kiss, but your lips keep brushing mines. Your breathing is hectic. Your reluctance isn’t quite gone and if it weren’t for your firm way to hold me, I would say that you’re about to back away from me.

You don’t. You slowly run your mouth along my cheek instead.

The urge to yank you against me turns suffocating. I need to get in true touch with you and I know I won’t be able to fight my yearning very long, so I slip my free hand under your T-shirt to enjoy at least the soft warmness of your skin.

You jump at my gesture, but you don’t pull away from me. You close your eyes to savor my slow caress. I eventually pull up your garment to invite you to take it off and you snatch it over your head hurriedly.

Your move breaks our contact for a split second and when you come back to me, I see it for the first time. The shadow is flickering back in your eyes. It’s faint for now but the harsh way you push me against the wall let me know that it’s growing.

You’re back to kissing me but this time is different. Your shyness is gone. You’re demanding and your tongue is forcefully making its way through my lips.

When I kiss you back, you pin me harder against the wall and you press your leg between my thighs, rubbing my groin in a taunting manner.

After a while, I’m breathless and I have to turn my head away from your eager mouth to gasp for air. You busy yourself with my jumper at once, trying frantically to get rid of it. As the piece of clothes resists, you end up ripping it off impatiently, leaving me in T-shirt.

For some reason, the sound of the fabric getting torn triggers a dull irritation in me and I shove you away in disapproval. You anticipated my feedback though and you catch my wrists in flight to prevent any distance between us.

I struggle with your grip as you forcefully pull me back to you. I feel the rage growing inside me. I want you but my mind still can’t stand the idea to give up the fight.

Then, all of sudden, you kick me off balance and I'm slammed to the floor. The air is knocked out of my lungs and I find myself lying flat on my back with your knee pressed across my laps. Your strong hold still imprisons my arms and no matter how hard I try I can't free myself.

“Kakarott,” I spit threateningly.

You don’t bother answering. Actually, you don't move anymore. You gaze at me sternly. The shadow has now completely invaded your eyes, but there's no aggressiveness there.

You eventually lean closer over me. “Vegeta, it's me,” you murmur. Your voice is so low, it's like your words are just in my head.

“It's just me,” you repeat.

Your soft whisper makes me realize that I’ve lost control for a brief moment. I become aware of your breath brushing my skin, I smell your scent, I feel your warmth and it’s like my mind suddenly remembers who you are. You won’t hurt me. You won’t hate me. You won’t steal anything from me, you’ll only take what I’m willing to give.

I stop battling and as a token of peace, I let you pin my wrists to the ground.

Your wet hungry mouth crushes against mine again. The sensation is dizzying. One of your hands has let go of me to wander underneath my T-shirt and down my abs. It’s a light soft graze at first, but then you turn somehow bold and slip it in my waistband. I can’t help but tense when your fingers reach my cock.

I’m hard as hell, but there’s still a distant voice calling for rebellion in the back of my mind. I try to sit up to withstand what’s coming next. You immediately slam me down to the ground and it takes all I have not to retaliate. Fighting myself happens to be tougher than fighting you in the end.

“Don’t,” you growl.

I close my eyes in an attempt to regain control. I want this so badly. This is no battle. This is just about sealing that bound of ours, and most of all, this is all I ever wanted.

I grab my waistband with a trembling hand and pull it down to get my hardness to the open. Your hand is still wrapped around it and you look at me hesitantly, unsure of what I intend to do.

Lifting my hand, I sink it into your wild mane and I push your head down to my groin. “Go on, I can’t take it anymore,” I sigh.

Surprisingly, you understand at once and you swallow me all. I arch with a groan at the stunning sensation when you start to work on me. Even though you have no experience, you sure make it up for it with your goodwill.

I let my head roll back on the floor. As expected, the bliss overcomes any bit of anger. My hand is still lost among your locks, following the movement of your head as you please me wholeheartedly.

You gently pull my pants out of the way without ever stopping what you’re doing and I let it happen, hardly aware of anything but the exhilarating feeling of your mouth around me.

After a while, you’re rid of any of my pants and underwear and you spread my legs little by little, lifting my pelvis to be more comfortable. I don’t care as long as you keep going.

But then, the nice warmth of your mouth leaves my cock, causing me to open my eyes and I raise my head to stare down at you.

I’m startled to find you smirking. You have a cocky expression I rarely saw on your face and my fighting instincts rush back into my mind when I meet your challenging eyes.

I have no time to move. You catch my thighs and you lift them high enough to prevent me from straightening myself. The sudden movement has me smack my head back to the ground while you stuck my legs over your shoulders and climb on top of me.

You stretch an arm to me and I feel your hand wrapping around my throat. My both hands immediately clutch your wrist in an attempt to make you loosen your grip but you don’t relent. You hold me tight.

“Kakarott,” I hiss. There’s some concern in my voice as I still remember the way you nearly choked me last time.

“If you don’t want this, you just have to say it,” you murmur.

Your words are kind but your offer sounds like a menace and all I can do is frown in confusion.

“But do it now,” you add when you receive no answer.

I stare at you in hesitation. I can hardly recognize you. The shadow in your eyes, it’s like it took over your whole being, and somehow, I find myself enjoying it. I smirk. If anything, this the most exciting challenge you ever gave me.

“Pretty sure I can handle anything coming from you,” I huff boldly.

You blurt a short chuckle and without any warning, you thrust two fingers in my mouth. I’m taken aback by the move and with my hands clenching your wrist, I can’t withstand your acting.

All I can do is moan disapprovingly while your fingers turn in my mouth, roaming my tongue ruthlessly, almost causing me to gag. When you take them out, they’re dripping with my saliva. The sight is fascinating and I can’t take my eyes off of them as I’m trying to catch my breath.

I’m slow to understand and I only do when I feel you slip your wet fingers inside me. I arch restlessly, instinctively trying to soothe the intrusive sensation, but you keep me in place, tightening your grip around my throat.

“You said you could handle anything coming from me. Show me,” you mumble in a mocking voice.

When your fingers start to come in and out of me, I remember I have to relax. It’s been such a long time. You lean over me and kiss me gently while you keep going on. I return the kiss. It’s lazy, mostly our tongues dancing together, and little by little the feeling of your fingers turns more pleasant.

I hear myself moaning faintly and I notice your hardness brushing my skin through your pants. I let go of your wrist to reach out for it, undoing your belt and rubbing your groin over the fabric of your boxers.

You grow breathless when I eventually release your cock.

“I can’t hold back,” you whine with your lips still pressed to mine.

A mix of panic and excitation seizes me when you withdraw your fingers to straighten up. I’ve wanted this for so long. It was meant to be and the only reason why I never caved in was fear and pride, but there’s nothing to fear coming from you, I should know it by now. And there’s no shame to rely on you either.

As a matter of fact, I realize that I’m the only one you really fell for after all. You’ve never been able to let go of me.

You enter me bluntly and I grit my teeth at the pain. I’ve handled much worse by far and the long groan escaping your lips is worth it. Hearing you is exhilarating and I forget the discomfort as soon as I glimpse at the bliss shining through your face. God, I want more of that.

The first thrusts are brutal. Just like you said, you don’t hold back. You don’t repress any of your moans either and I understand that you’ve certainly been craving for that moment for a very long time.

Then, little by little, you’re able to regain some control and you look down at me. Your free hand roams my chest and runs down to my cock. You grab it gently and you start stroking me at a terribly slow pace while you adjust your angle.

It seems you find something there because the next thrust triggers a new pleasure. I can’t help but yell my agreement. Getting the hint, you quicken your moves, getting in and out a bit harsher every time. Your grip tightens both around my crotch and my throat and the bliss becomes overwhelming.

You use your hand clenching my throat to keep me in place as your movements become wild. I have to hold onto your neck to keep up with your madness. My fingers are digging into your skin, certainly bruising you in the process. I’m pretty sure you don’t even feel it, just like I stopped feeling the vice on my windpipe.

Then, all of a sudden, you lean closer to me and you press your lips against mines in a scream. A rush of adrenaline seizes me. I need air. Right now. I jerk as I come unexpectedly, unleashing an unwilling wave of ki at the same time. Your chokehold loosens in the process and ecstasy washes over me, carrying my thoughts away.

My vision has gone blurry. My heart’s pounding at a crazy rate, its hectic drumming echoing in my skull. I still feel your weight on top of me. You’re panting loudly and your body is boiling hot.

“Vegeta?”

I hardly hear your murmur but I sense your concern. Only then do I realize that you’ve been on the verge to choke me to death. My head’s spinning.

Then your lips are brushing my cheek.

“Vegeta? Are you all right? Do you hear me?”

Gosh, I do. Your face is just above me right in my field of vision, but it’s still a haze.

You kiss me and you eventually get off of me. Losing your warmth, I’m wrapped into a sudden freshness.

I try to look around me but my eyes won’t work right. Everything is a blur. All I can say is that something’s wrong.

“Huh, you crushed the kitchen wall,” you state.

“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t tried to strangle me,” I hiss in reply.

You chuckle awkwardly and the sound makes me feel like laughing too. I think I’m smiling.

* * *

Although we took shelter in the bedroom, the cold is sneaking up to us from the kitchen’s destroyed wall. Each breath I take turns into a slight mist and fades into the crisp air. I press the crumpled sheets against my bare skin but you only left me a tiny piece of them and it’s not enough to cover me properly.

I watch the rising sun through the window. The sight is somehow mesmerizing. The light slowly flaring over the horizon and chasing the shadows one by one feels like hope.

Scratch that. I definitely become cheesy.

I’m cold and my neck hurts like hell. And that's no poetry. I brush the reddened skin with a grimace. You, bastard.

I turn to you. You’re sleeping naked, spread all over the mattress and I have little space for myself. The side of your neck is marked by a bloody bruise and your chest is a vivid red from the burn of my ki blast. It serves you right. You don’t seem to ache though and even the biting cold in the house isn’t enough to bother your slumber. Your look is blissful. I guess you haven’t slept that way in weeks.

I give a faint sigh and I snatch the piece of sheets stuck underneath your body. You roll aside to me with a mumble.

“Kakarott, I’m freezing. Could you move your damn ass to let me get some of the blankets?” I growl.

You don’t even open your eyes. You smile and you wrap your arm around me. “Nothing's better than human warmth,” you slur sleepily as you press me closer to you.

I want to fight your embrace at first but for some reason, I can't bring myself to do it. It's so weird to be there, sharing that bed after we nearly destroyed the house. We’re a mess. We’ve always been a mess, and yet it’s the first time I’m ready to admit it. Most of all, it’s the first time I accept it.

So, I let you huddle against me with that silly happiness still all over your face. 

You, bastard.


End file.
